


The Gentleman of Weapons

by Thingsareswinging



Series: The Life and Times of Grand Master Piandao [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: AU, F/M, For the Want of a Nail
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2017-11-06 23:37:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 45
Words: 134,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thingsareswinging/pseuds/Thingsareswinging
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where things went only slightly differently, can the Order of the White Lotus save the world from the machinations of the Fire Lord?</p><p>No.  They're screwed, actually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Epilogue

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted and tidied up from FF.net

* * *

 

_Or,_

_ One Bad Day._

_\--_  
 __

We had failed. All our machinations, all our schemes, useless. The final bastion of the Earth Kingdom had fallen.

We're in trouble.

Why didn't we listen to Bumi? He _said_ he wouldn't be able to hold out forever. But _no_ , we knew better, we thought we had to have a final symbol of resistance. We were idiots.

Sure, it had been a grand battle, but in the end, the outcome had been inevitable. The Fire Nation could not be denied.

I, of course, had only really been of any use once the battle was already lost, a whole quarter of the city _gone_ , slid into the abyss by sappers, hundreds dead. We never should have fought.

So here I was, breathing as lightly as I could, hiding in a broom cupboard in the first house I had dived into while the soldiers scoured the city, looking for me. It had been four hours since Bumi had surrendered, and I was the only priority target still unaccounted for.

Damnit.

\--

It took twelve hours to escape the city, ducking into alleyways, hiding in semi-wrecked houses, skulking away from patrols. I have never been naturally stealthy. I'm too tall.

I _do_ , however, have a good sense of balance, and this came in handy more than once when I came to the unstable and very dangerous ground that was what remained of one quarter of the city. The patrols hadn't headed over that way yet, and wouldn't until they could stabilise the ground. And so I sat amongst the rubble, admiring the wide, jagged slope that lead down into the canyon.

It was almost beautiful in its devastation. The jagged crags of rock, the piles of rubble forming an uneven but inexorable slide into the abyss, the setting sun washing everything a burnt orange. It was so quiet, so still. A shocked pause while the city tried to understand what had happened here.

And think, this had been streets, shops, homes, not two days ago.

I think I slept, then. In any case, it was morning before I set out on the next and most dangerous part of my escape.

Climbing down to the canyon floor.

\--

The journey was slow, dangerous, and very tiring, and it brought back unpleasant memories of a visit to a temple in the south. I rested whenever I got the opportunity, lying back on some outcrop or other. I had had the foresight to take with me as much food as I could carry, and I ate at around midday. I had with me, of course, a napkin; which I spread across a stone, and my chopsticks, so I was able to maintain some semblance of civilisation on my six feet of rock shelf halfway down into the mist.

Did you know I used to have a butler?

Never mind. It's not important right now.

So there I was, climbing down the pillar of stone that for so long had reassured me of Omashu's invincibility. Now it was just a hindrance. It is the way of things, I suppose. I'm not a natural climber, and I don't have much of a head for heights, but I managed to overcome these two problems by virtue of the fact that I didn't have much of a choice. So, long after the sun had set, I found myself on the canyon floor, among the wreckage of a district of Omashu.

It was... grim, to say the least. The mist curled around everything, thick and grey, but I could see enough. The ground beneath me was rubble from the city, most of it pulverised and unrecognisable, but every so often as I made my way through the fog I could see what had to have been a wall, or someone's door, or debris from inside a house. I think I saw a chair.

Lots of bodies, too. Most were buried, or crushed, nothing but smashed flesh and powdered bones now. But, again, some were recognisable, barely. It made the bile rise in my throat to see the outcome of the Fire Nation's greatest victory in ten years, just as it had so long ago. I forced myself to focus. I wasn't here to weep over the wreckage, I was here to escape to fight another day.

I sat on one of the flatter pieces of debris- probably used to be a wall- and caught my breath.

People don't come down here into the canyon, not if they can help it. The mists conceal all manner of... unpleasant things, and there's nothing down here worth the risk. Just a dirty river, which the city uses to get rid of its sewage.

But that means the Fire Nation won't be following me. At least not for a while.

I picked my way through the rubble. It was silent, and cloying. Fitting, for a mausoleum.

Miraculously, I came across a basket. There were a couple of completely unharmed apples in it.

Well, I'm not one to let food go to waste. I picked one up, and polished it on my sleeve.

Suddenly, there was a noise up ahead. Pocketing the apple, I crept through the mist. The sound was... _organic_ , mixed with a series of crunches and cracks. Suddenly, I saw moving shapes in the mist, huge and low, each larger than ostrich-horses.

Canyon crawlers. Nice.

There are three of them, feeding on the dead, picking them out of the rubble. It's the closest anyone here is going to get to a burial. Logically, I should leave them.

Except they're in my way. I have to get to the river, otherwise I could be lost for hours, hours I don't want to waste.

Long heads swivel, looking up from their meal.

They've got my scent anyway. Too late now, here they come-

I twist on one foot, drawing my sword from my back as the first one charges, turning the momentum from the swivel into a sideways blow that severs the beast's left front leg at the knee. It gives a hideous cry and slumps to the ground, legs kicking, stump spraying dark green blood everywhere, but a lunge between the eyes finishes it.

The second was pouncing, but I was already away, and it's leap was wild, uncoordinated. A casual flick toward it's open mouth separated it's lower jaw from the rest of it, and a second strike into one eye was enough to put it down for good but then the second one was leaping and there wasn't time to move so I just reassured myself of my footing, braced myself, and lunged.

Damn. I liked this shirt too. Canyon crawler blood _never_ comes out.

I wrenched my sword free of the carcass, and set about cleaning it on my ruined shirt. Canyon crawlers. Huh. Been a long while since I fought them- must have been twelve years, at least. Can't help but think that there's something I've forgotten about them.

Shapes moved in the fog, and a scuttling explosion jogged my memory.

_Canyon crawlers typically group in swarms of twenty-five to fifty._

Oh, monkeyfeathers.

In seconds, the fog spewed out dozens of black shapes, long jaws snapping excitedly. Then they saw me, but more importantly they smelled the crawler blood on me, and they slowed. Confused, wary. It couldn't last for long.

I've faced down odds like this before. Before, however, I was fresh, fed, twelve years younger, and, most importantly of all, I was secure in the knowledge that the most dangerous swordsmaster in the entire Northern Earth Kingdom was just one crevasse over. Now, well, I had none of those advantages.

Suffice to say, this has not been one of my better days.

Facing down enormous odds, with sub-optimal terrain, I did what any self-respecting warrior would have done.

I turned tail and fled.

I've always been fast. When I was in the Fire Nation Boys Camp, a tender ten years old, I remember clearly the pride I felt when they told me I was a natural cross-country runner. You don't forget something like that, and one should never underestimate the power of praise like that on children as twitchy and insecure as I was. There are very few men indeed that can match me over rough terrain.

I wasn't running from men.

The canyon crawlers were right at home in the rubble, and I knew I had a matter of seconds before they overtook me. I needed high ground.

There was a roar in my ears and a rush in the air and a feeling I hadn't felt in a long time- fear. Genuine, adrenaline-pulsing fear for my life, the rush of knowing that there's only me and my wits and my sword separating me from a painful death.

Quite the rush.

A shape loomed out of the fog, and I scrabbled up to it, seeing that it was a crude tower of rubble. Hardly ideal, but there's an idiom about ports and storms that fits here. I scrambled, climbing high, balancing on the rough point until I could hack down at anything trying to get at me. I am _not_ going to be eaten today.

Let's see what you've got.

They charged forward, swarming around the base of my column, and one bold one scrambled up onto the backs of his comrades and leapt up for my head. I quickly relieved him of his. But that was the signal, it seemed, and the beasts were suddenly frenzied, surging up, and my sword was singing in my hand but it wasn't going to be enough, and sure enough the rock beneath my feet was beginning to give, and I was slipping slipping falling

A true warrior is never constrained by other's perceptions. A true warrior also knows stable footing when he sees it.

The backs of these monsters were definitely _not_ stable footing. See above, regarding that idiom about ports and storms.

The 'ground' beneath my feet was a seething mass of stiff black hair that cut into my shoes and slashed at my ankles, but I kept moving, adrenaline lending me wings, leaping from back to back and springing off a snapping jaw to land flawlessly on another pile of rubble, this one substantially tougher.

So I'd bought a little time. That didn't solve the fundamental problem of-

Huh? What's going on?

Instead of following me, the canyon crawlers are looking skittish, wary. I thought for a second I might have confused them with my little trick, but no. This was something else. Something much, _much_ worse.

The noise was the worst part. A kind of high pitched hissing, loud and pervasive and impossible to pin down. It got the crawlers completely spooked, and from my position on my rubble I thought I could see a shape moving in the fog. Or maybe I couldn't.

Suddenly, a crawler broke, fleeing from the rest into the mist.

I waited with bated breath, waited for the sudden screech that would pin down my newest worst enemy.

Nothing. It sounded like that one had made it out.

Emboldened my their comrade's success, the rest of the canyon crawlers began to move, scuttling away as a group.

And that's when it struck. There was no roar, no warning. Just suddenly this huge, huge shape burst from the shadows, all grey fur and scales and claws and a huge diamond head snapping forward and biting down a crawler in one gulp before turning it's attention to the rest.

A viper-rat. One of the biggest land predators in the world. They only feed once a month or so, but when they do, they eat a _lot_. I guess the carrion (bodies, civilian bodies) brought it out. In moments, seven canyon crawlers lay dead, and the rest fled.

I am a cautious man, by nature and lack of nurture. I try to avoid making rash judgements. But I can say, without a single moment's hesitation, that I am in _serious_ trouble. I had only seen a viper-rat once before, on that expedition twelve years ago we had actually been hunting one, and we had ended up trapping it with a landslide and then I got taught how to use a bow. I wasn't exactly a master first time, but we had a lot of arrows and I had a big target.

No such luxuries today.

I couldn't run. No point. The beast was busy eating the canyon crawlers it had killed, but it knew where I was, and could easily outrun me. And it would soon finish its meal. I did _not_ want to end up a second course.

Let's see. What do I know about viper-rats? Well, their venom is strong enough to knock an ostrich-horse dead with a few drops (the swordsmaster I had trained with in the Northern Earth Kingdom had poisoned her arrowheads with the stuff, that was why we had hunted one in the first place. Strange woman. When she was convinced that she didn't have anything more to teach me about killing men, she insisted I learn to kill animals, so we went and set up camp right in the middle of the Great Divide for three months. Very educational), they're faster than a man over distances of up to three miles, their hides are scaled underneath the coarse hair that grows in patches, and they have very poor eyesight, but make up for it with a phenomenal sense of smell and hearing. Also, they're _very_ smart, rivalling messenger hawks in that regard.

So I have no advantages whatsoever. Excellent. I did think that my life was a little too easy at the moment.

I sheathed my sword, at least for now. Okay. Plan of action?

Run away, as fast as I can. Now, while the thing's still eating.

I kept my eye on the grey bulk as it merrily crunched the carcasses of the canyon crawlers, and took a cautious step down from the rubble.

So far, so good. Now, which way do you think the river is?

Ah yes. Over there. North-west of where I am now, if memory serves.

A prayer to Agni on my tongue, I burst forward and ran.

For a few breathless seconds, all I could hear was the rush of blood in my ears, drowning out even my footsteps. Then a scuffle, as huge claws raked up the ground, and a roar like a thousand saws at the bottom of a very deep well, and the chase was on.

I ran in dead, controlled, silence, all energy devoted to simply running as fast as I possibly could, ignoring the thunder that was chasing me. This couldn't last long. My running had startled it, but within seconds it would be upon me.

I looked up. Seconds would be enough.

Five strides away there was another small outcrop of rock, arranged in several rough piles. Without hesitation, I leapt as soon as I could, dodging evisceration by scant moments and landing on the rock. As I sprang down on the other side, I wondered exactly how much time I had gained.

Not much. But -

Enough.

There was the river! I wasn't going to die, possibly!

I stumbled, fell.

The claws came down, one huge paw slamming into my back, crushing me into the dirt, the unbearable weight of the monster grinding me into the ground.

Pain. How I've missed you. But no time for reunions now.

As soon as I had fallen, I had pulled my sword into my hand, but it was dropped now, and I scrabbled blindly for it. Come on, come on, where _are_ you?

My hand was empty, and I would soon be-

-Agh!

The beast knocked me sideways, slamming me into a rock, leaving me winded and dazed as it moved in for the kill. Out of options, out of time, I backed up blindly, until my fist closed around a loose stone.

Perfect. Now wait... wait...

The beast reared back to lunge, and I threw the stone right into its yellow eye.

The cry of pain it shrieked made me wince, but I was already away, running towards the glint of silver that was my sword, and I rolled under a wild swing and then I was up and standing and my blade was in my hand and I planted my feet and swung.

Two clawed fingers were severed, and I ran for the river as the beast hissed in pain. Run run run _leap_ -

-Put sword away. Should have done that while on the ground. Oh well. Ample time to do it now-

-Hit the brown river. I'm a bad swimmer, but I'm safe. Behind me, the monster snorts. Impotent rage.

The smell of the ... _river_ masks my scent, but that comes with it's own drawbacks. Namely, the fact that there is... _river_ in my eyes and _river_ in my ears and the stench of _river_ is in my clothes and my hair and oh Agni why do you do these things to me?

There is an idiom you might have heard of that refers to dire straits. When one is in dire straits, they can be said to be up a certain creek without a paddle. Well, I'm swimming in that creek. And I have no paddle.

Look on the bright side, I thought, as I swam away from the confused predator. Perhaps this is my nadir. This one day can be said to be one of the worst of my life, can it not? So it only follows that maybe things will get better soon?

\--

Things... didn't get better. For nearly two years, things did not get better at all.


	2. A Matter of Chance

 

_Or,_

_There's Never Been a Better Time Than Right Now (to Get up Out of the Dirt)._

_\--  
_

I like Kyoshi Island, you know. It's quiet, comparatively, it has hot summers and freezing winters, which I like- could never stand middling weather, so _dull_ , it saps me of really all my energy- good food, as long as you like fish (if not, well, you're on your own), and, best of all, it's still _free_. Not a lot of places are still free, you know.

But it's alright. We've got a Plan.

Oops, I shouldn't be thinking about the Plan right now. Not while I'm experiencing my second-favourite thing about Kyoshi Island. Might let something slip.

My second favourite thing about Kyoshi Island is this drink. It's made from fermented honey, and it's nothing like I've ever tasted anywhere else. Even home never had stuff like this. It truly is delightful. And very moreish.

Which is why I mustn't think of the Plan. Who knows where the Fire Lord might have spies.

The thought is sobering, so I banish it immediately. I came to Kyoshi Island expressly to get blind drunk, and that is exactly what I am going to do.

Because, you see, if I'm blind drunk here, then I'm blind drunk _here_ , you understand?

No? Well, all things in their time.

Speaking of time, it's almost noon. Better pick up the pace.

"Another, please, my good man."

The barman looks doubtful. No doubt he's wondering how much damage I could do if I got violent.

I could destroy this bar, burn the town to the ground, and kill every person in it within half an hour. I won't though. My friends tell me I'm a happy drunk.

I put a gold piece on the counter. More drink is produced.

I'm not worried about spending too much money. After all, I came here to have a good time, didn't I?

I wonder, how long would it take to lead the people here in song?

A while. There's only three of us, including the bartender. The only other patron is some wrinkled old woman who looks like she's been pickled in vinegar. Not one for much excitement, then.

Oh well. There's always the evening. Perhaps I'll get to dance. I don't often get the chance. People who know me think I'm too sombre to dance, so the only time I'm allowed to is when I drink.

Hold on, something's happening outside. Rush of feet, shouts, an argument, and then-

Silence.

I stagger outside, one part drunk to nine parts overacting. I know the local military were dispatched this morning, but since I keep up with the news, I didn't think it was anything to worry about. Just a training exercise or a twitchy commander or something like that. They happen.

But this isn't either. They've got- can't see, people in the way, 'scuse me, drunk coming through, don't need to be polite, see me stagger, smell the alcohol, note the hair and beard, I'm just another drunken vagrant, please ignore the weaponry, just my little quirk, bam. I'm at the front- some people tied to the statue of Kyoshi.

I'm expecting pirates. It's usually pirates. Fire Nation ships have learned better than to hassle Kyoshi Island.

It's...

…

Well... it's not pirates. It most certainly is not pirates.

Oh great, now I'm completely sober. What a waste of time and good alcohol.

\--

So.

The Avatar has returned.

Excellent. Beyond excellent. Beyond anything we could ever have hoped for.

The Avatar has returned... as a twelve-year-old boy, a master airbender it's true, but nothing else.

Decidedly _less_ than excellent.

I have to think about this. No dancing for me tonight.

There will be other nights.

I made my way up to the room I had rented, and stared at the mirror. A haggard face stared back, wild black hair and a beard of the sort that came when you just stopped shaving. I looked like a vagabond.

Hnf.

Now. I am fortunate enough to be the first of us to learn this information, so... what do I do with it? How will this boy change the Plan? Do we even still _need_ the Plan?

I think...

I think we should continue with the Plan. If nothing else it will make the boy's job easier, and we can still put it to use, should the boy fail. Yes, I think that is best.

The implications of this one simple fact- that our ordained saviour has returned, after everyone thought the cycle long broken- are overwhelming, but I know how to face down overwhelming things (a giant viper-rat, a bar full of drink-crazed mercenaries, one hundred firebenders). One step at a time. Don't try and take it in all at once, take it one block at a time.

What is the objective of the Plan? End the dominion of the Fire Nation, and stop what remains of this war.

How did the original Plan intend to accomplish this? By removing the Fire Lord and placing his more reasonable brother on the throne in his place, along with about twenty other things. But that's the relevant one for now. We may still end up doing this. But for now, let us assume that the Avatar can, and will, face and defeat the Fire Lord.

He will need assistance. He will need training. We can provide both.

The highest risk to him will be when he heads North. As soon as he crosses into the Former Earth Kingdom, he will be at risk. If he can make it through the Former Earth Kingdom, and get past the blockade of the North, then he will be safe. There is only one man I would consider worthy of teaching the Avatar to waterbend. We can't afford to give him substandard training.

I glance out of my window. The boy is there, with his two companions. Those two are his only guards.

Unacceptable. They'll be cut to ribbons the moment they set foot on Earth Kingdom shores.

What, then? Do I offer my services? Join him?

Ha. Laughable.

…But I can help in other ways. Make sure our people keep an eye on him. Perhaps we could get June to keep tabs on him. We worked together well enough last time.

It was early evening, but Kyoshi Island was still abuzz. The island's population has expanded considerably in recent years, as refugees still attempt to escape the rule of the Fire Nation, but it's still usually fairly quiet in the evenings. Not when the Avatar has arrived, though. He's the star of the evening, the centre of an eager crowd. I can't blame people, really. He's the only real symbol of hope that's shown up in years.

I should do something. I have no real idea _what_ , right now, but I should do something. Perhaps it would be best if I left the island immediately. That way I could ready the Order, make preliminary preparations for the Avatar's journey north.

But I shouldn't be too hasty. I peered out my window, down to where the Avatar was surrounded by villagers. He seemed to be enjoying the attention. Oddly, it seemed that one of his companions was missing. The boy was nowhere to be seen, and the girl was standing off to the side, arms folded. Perhaps I should take the time to find out more about the Avatar and his travelling companions. After all, the more we know about them, the better we can protect them.

Where _is_ the other one, anyway? He vanished at about mid-afternoon.

I stood up from my bed, and stretched, reaching for my poncho. I think it's time I took a stroll.

\--

Oh. There he is.

I have an important moral question here. Which is more disturbing? Seeing a teenage boy in makeup and a dress get beaten up by a similarly dressed girl while they engage in clumsy flirting, or seeing a (seemingly) drunk homeless man with a sword spying on them through a window?

Either way, I've determined where the boy is, so I'm just going to leave now.

\--

I couldn't get close enough to the Avatar to learn anything useful, and his other companion had vanished, presumably to whatever rooms they had been given.

Stop presuming things. I should check. If she's gone somewhere else, say, into the woods for an evening walk, then she might already be dead (thanks to me).

So I checked. Weaving away from the crowd, putting on my best drunken walk, I blundered back to the inn, since that seemed the most logical place where they would be put up. Sure enough, the girl was in the dining room, hunched over a bowl of water.

So, she is a waterbender? I didn't think there were any left in the south. Untrained, though.

Well, I suppose she's less of a liability than an untrained firebender. Or an untrained earthbender. Still, it's not particularly helpful.

She looked up sharply, suddenly noticing my presence. I hiccuped politely, and waved, before staggering outside again.

The night air was cold, and my breath came in clouds. I supposed I might as well make one more round of the village before sleep. One can never be too security conscious.

Away from the main street, the village was quiet, the only noise the crunch of snow beneath my feet and the occasional animal noise.

And suddenly there was a bellow.

Spinning to the source of the noise, I ran forward, my hand resting loosely on the hilt of my sword.

If it's another giant monster, I swear I will... kill it, I suppose. Or run away from it. It depends, really.

I rounded a corner, finding myself at the public stable, and was confronted with a small hill of white hair.

A sky bison. A real live sky bison. Well, isn't that something. Heh, Zei would _kill_ to be here right now.

"Well," I said, as the beast huffed its welcome at me, "you don't see that every day. Don't you know you're supposed to be extinct?"

The creature replied with a _haroom_. I'm not quite sure that that means, but oh well.

"Hold on," I said, reaching into my pack. "I may have something... here." I tossed a moon peach into the creature's gaping maw. It was consumed, but the stone was spat to the side. I moved a step closer, and the beast nodded at me.

I may have made a new friend.

"Appa, I have some dinner for you, buddy- oh. Hello."

The Avatar.

I turned, theatrically unsteady, and stared blearily at the kid.

"...W'as...w'as... w'as this, then? 'S a hill, 's wot it is. Why's got, you know, things? Pointy things. Horns, tha's it," I slurred, leaning heavily against the wall.

The Avatar eyed me warily.

"His name's Appa. He's a sky bison."

I blinked, and shook my head.

"Buy some what? *Hic* whatever, kid. I'm gon'... I'm gon... I'm gon go slee' now..."

And with that, I staggered away. I think I managed to avoid suspicion.

\--

I could have gone a whole other route, I pondered to myself as I made my way back to my room. I could have introduced myself to the Avatar, earned his trust, joined his group. I still have time to do so. Certainly it would be a lot safer for them, and while I'm no bender, there are still things I could teach all of them.

But that comes with downsides. The Fire Lord, despite what many claim, has far fewer trained espionage agents than rumour would have you believe. Two are assigned to follow and track me at all times, which is annoying, but it has some benefits. The Avatar will naturally warrant more agents being sent to track him, so really it's best if we allow the Fire Lord to waste resources tracking several targets, rather than make it easy for him by grouping together. Besides, if I can persuade June to follow the boy, he should be safe.

I made it to my room, and stretched back on the bed. My next move will have to be planned carefully. The mobility the Avatar's sky bison affords him should keep him ahead of any pursuit, but Nyla won't have a problem tracking, and if I can get back to my eel-hound, I should be able to keep up, should the need arise. So that's not the problem. The problem is my aforementioned shadows.

The fact that I am under constant surveillance has proved useful as a means of feeding the Fire Lord false information about me. Over the last six months, ever since we met on Narwhal Island and formed the Plan, I have steadily presented the image of a man falling apart at the seams. I have stopped shaving and cutting my hair. I began to drink. I even, although I had to force myself to do it, began to neglect my practise. And it was all supposed to culminate here, on Kyoshi Island. I would spend the last few months before the Plan went into effect here, drinking away the last of my money, effectively falling off the radar. Then, when the time was right, I would kill the agents, get a haircut and a change of clothes, and initiate the Plan.

But I can't do that any more. The Plan has taken a knock. Oh well, I can work with it. If I can't get myself written off, then I'll have to vanish. It will be harder, but I think I can manage it. But the agents will have to die here, before I leave. I will be assigned new ones, of course, but hopefully (and with a little assistance from the Order) I can evade them.

Fiddly, isn't it? The worst part is knowing that one wrong move, one misstep, and the Plan could collapse.

Don't tell me you thought saving the world was going to be easy.

\--

I was up before the sun. It was another habit that I had forced myself to abandon in the last six months, and I was glad to be back into it. I picked it up when I was in the company of firebenders, mainly so I could get the drop on them, if it came to it. Actually, it didn't acquire that facet for nearly three years. It started out as a way to annoy them.

I was younger then. And a lot less cautious. Of course, back then it was only the Earth Kingdom trying to kill me. And sometimes the Water Tribes.

But no matter. I was up early. I had a lot to do today.

Today, as the saying goes, is the first day of the rest of my life. I have no use for the persona of the dispirited alcoholic any more.

First, I had to shave. Then I had to bathe.

Then I would have to go out into the woods and murder the two men hiding there.

\--

I remember Kyoshi Island before Ba Sing Se fell. It was an interesting place. There were actually several Kyoshi Villages, or more accurately Kyoshi Village was split into several small hamlets, dotted around the island. Nonetheless, they all saw themselves as being part of the same community, and were all united under one leader. However, in the years since then, when the city fell and the Fire Nation began to spread its influence over the whole Earth Kingdom, Kyoshi Island played host to hundreds of refugees. To his eternal credit, the High Chief of the island, a man named Oyaji, welcomed all refugees over the protests of a few lesser chiefs, and the villages quickly began to grow. Now, several smaller villages, particularly the ones on the north coast, have begun to merge together as new homes have sprung up.

This explosion has also meant that the Kyoshi Warriors are under increasing pressure to go against their ancient traditions, and allow boys to join. Surprisingly few boys have actually backed this idea. Perhaps it's the dress code.

This whole situation has, naturally, led to ...tensions between communities of immigrants and native denizens of the Island. So far, the authorities have managed too keep everyone placated, but I have to wonder if it will last. The influx of refugees has slowed since Omashu fell, but more still try to make it to the island.

The inherent attitude of the island community has been one resistant of change, and steeped in tradition. Change, however, has been thrust upon them, and I cannot help but think that if they continue as they have been, dragging their feet, being slow to adapt to this changing world, then the Fire Nation will obliterate them, and soon.

I left the outskirts of the village, and made my way into the woods that clung to the lower slopes of the mountains. I knew the men were here, and I knew that I couldn't afford to be seen, or they would just take off, leading me on a long chase. So I had to plan this carefully.

I had pinpointed their location some weeks ago, when I had seen the flash of light reflected of a spyglass one day. I knew they were in a tree house within sight of the village where I was staying, and I knew that at least one of them had to leave soon. That was enough.

My ragged poncho was camouflage enough once I'd pulled the hood up, at least when I slumped behind a rock, out of their line of sight. It had taken me over an hour to move less than half a mile, a painful, tense, and paradoxically dull hour, but it had paid dividends. I was in position, now all I had to do was wait.

And wait.

And wait.

\--

The sun was long up by the time I got my chance. One of the men had left the hideout to relieve himself. I waited until he had gone a reasonable distance, then moved.

I sprang upwards, over the rock that had shielded me from sight, and hurtled towards the man, who was making his way back to the ladder. I will give him this, he was good enough to have pulled out his blade and moved into a serviceable stance by the time I had taken his life.

Not pausing, I sprang up the ladder, relying on the element of surprise and the fact that no competent fighter would climb up a ladder if there was an enemy at the top. I propelled myself upwards once my hand was resting on the top rung, and my sword flashed as I ended the second man.

And that was that. No turning back now. The Plan is altered, and I will have to make sure it goes well. The changes that the Avatar will make to the world simply by his presence will be enormously detrimental, should we fail to adapt out strategy, but if we do, the opportunities offered are astounding.

Before I left the tree house, I picked up the last, semi-complete, report that the men had been making. Always useful to know what the enemy is saying to each other.

As I dropped to the ground, I looked up at the morning sky through the trees. It was looking like it was going to be pleasant weather today, not a cloud in... the... sky...

Oh.

There's just a suggestion of-

I hauled myself back up the ladder, stepped over the body, and bent down to look through the spyglass, scanning the horizon.

Black smoke.

This could be bad.

\--

I entered the village at a sprint. People exiting their houses as they started their day looked up, confused, as I hurtled towards the main street. I had to warn them, if they didn't know already. The Fire Nation were-

The Fire Nation were already here. Landing craft, on the shoreline. A small warship in the bay. Mounted troops on their way.

People are rushing towards me, desperate to get away from the invaders, fleeing for the mountains. I duck into a side alley. The best thing I can do for now is wait. Wait for the optimum moment.

A scrape from above makes me glance to the rooftops, and I see a flash of brown material for a second. A second glance out of the mouth of the alley confirms my suspicion- the Warriors have already set up their ambush.

It's a tidy piece of work, I'll give them that.

The leader of this advance party makes some grand statements, a bold declaration that they are here for the Avatar. I've already tuned him out. There's only one factor left. Where _is_ the Avatar? Surely he will show up soon.

A sudden sound and a crackling of lacquer indicates that this captain is not so patient. And battle is joined. I stay put, for now. The fight seems evenly matched, and I could help turn the tide, but I'll give the Avatar a few more minutes. Wouldn't want to step on any toes.

Suddenly, a young voice screams a challenge, and the wind rushes. There he is.

I risk another glance out of my alley. Everything seems to be going well. No need to enter the fray yet. Wait. What's that?

Another landing craft. Oh. That could be bad. Another twenty men could start to turn the tide against the Warriors, and there's no time to send word to the other hamlets to ask for assistance.

Looks like I shall have to help after all. With a sigh, I straighten up.

A red-armoured figure crashes down my alleyway, nearly bowling me over. He's pursued by a Kyosh- no. That's not right. It's one of the Avatar's companions, isn't it?

Agni's Eye, he's still wearing the dress.

Both combatants completely ignore me, crashing through the alley and out the other side, into the wider space of a side street.

I watch the fight with growing interest. There's a lot of talent here. Untapped, it's true, but that can be changed.

Some people, some crude, ignorant people, have compared my fighting to dancing, and expect me to take it as a compliment. I can understand what they are referring to- some fighting styles, particularly those developed by the Water Tribes, can have a kind of flowing elegance to them at times. Those times specifically being in show matches. If a fighter is moving like a dancer, they are trying to delude themselves, trying to mask the real purpose of a fight.

This boy does none of that. This boy fights like he is _fighting_. He is crude, untrained, and clumsy. But he has grasped the one overarching principle- that the point of a fight is to hurt the enemy. Nothing more, nothing less.

His skills are rude, but the firebender really never stood a chance. The boy utilised the little training he had been given in kyoshitsu to twirl (it was the dress that made me think of such words, I believe) away from the plumes of fire, and then stopped, grasping the man's outstretched wrist in one hand, and slamming the other into his elbow.

I think I heard a snap. The boy let go, and the man dropped to the ground, moaning in pain.

"Not bad." I felt I had to contribute.

The boy span to face me, arms raised. I placated him with a wave of my hands..

"But you tend to not place your back foot quite right. You should remember that if you're going to get any power behind those strikes, you need to have proper footing."

He raised an eyebrow. "O...kay. I'll remember that, strange man in the alley."

"You should. And another thing-" I stepped around the boy in a wide circle, and drew my sword, and as the boy stepped backwards I slammed the blade down, directly through the palm of the firebender. He had been preparing to attack again "-you should always check that they're going to _stay_ down."

The boy winced at the sight of blood, and I let the sounds of the battle filter across.

"Look, just who _are-_ "

"They're not here to conquer the island." We needed to finish this, before the village took too much damage. "They're here for the Avatar. If the Avatar leaves, then the Fire Nation will follow him."

The boy opened his mouth, no doubt to argue that they couldn't run like this. Then he closed it again.

"You're right," he said, simply. Like I said, potential.

Without another word, he scurried off to find his friends. I hoped they would be gone before I weighed in.

I counted to thirty elephant-seals in my head, and then peered out the alley. The Avatar was nowhere to be seen, but maybe I should-

A Kyoshi Warrior hit the ground, and three soldiers moved to surround the fallen girl.

I can't afford to hold off any longer. I will have to take my chances with the Avatar seeing me. If he does, I can always be obtuse and unhelpful.

I weave unsteadily onto the battlefield, towards the cluster of men. I plant myself quite deliberately between myself and their fallen target. I sway a little, just for good measure. I glance to my left, at the Warrior. She seems concious, but she's not going to be walking on that leg for a while, from how she's fallen. Or fighting with that arm, for that matter.

I glance to my right. Three firebenders, looking confused.

Three, two, one

Grab my hood, yank the poncho off me in one smooth motion, and hurl it directly at the firebenders-

-Draw my sword, and bring it up to shoulder level-

Confused, the first thing the foremost one does is try to catch it-

-I lunge through the filthy garment. I don't need to see it to know the blade has punctured his lung-

The man goes down, and the other two charge, one on my left, one on my right. They slide into practised stances-

-My sword flutters, and tears Right's jugular. Left brings up his hands in a desperate block, and my blade rolls in my hand, stabbing upwards, under his ribcage-

It's over in five seconds.

The battlefield is a silent tableau. I suppose it must be quite disconcerting to see three trained soldiers wiped out by one apparent tramp.

I use the pause to my advantage. I hold still long enough for the Kyoshi Warriors to get themselves together, and two rush forward to extract their fallen comrade. I analyse the battlefield. Around thirty soldiers left, but most of them have already turned for the beach, heading for their boat. They mean to pursue the Avatar.

We shall see.

I charge a knot of spear men, redirecting their lunges with my sword, batting aside their strikes until I can get under their guard and tear them apart, and keep moving. Flames billow towards me, but I'm not where they expected me to be, and their lack of foresight costs them dearly. Before I know it, the tide of the battle has carried me down to the beach, the Kyoshi Warriors tacitly accepting this alliance, and using the distraction caused by me to mop up the remaining soldiers. Now, the few that remain have made it to the boats, and are retreating to their small craft.

Now, perhaps, we shall see why the Fire Navy is hesitant to attack Kyoshi Island.

Right on cue, the water explodes with a bellowing roar, and everyone on shore takes an involuntary step back as the monstrous form of the Unagi bursts from the water, crashing into the ship, the waves caused by its breaking the surface sending the landing craft crashing, turning upside down in the middle of the bay, as the sea serpent attacks the ship that was arrogant enough to challenge the beast in its own feeding grounds.

Now I'm close enough, I notice as I turn my eyes from the Unagi's feast, there are more ships, anchored outside of the bay. One, I think, has a hint of gold about it. Could it be?

I coughed politely at one Kyoshi Warrior, who had an air of command about her. She managed to tear horrified eyes away from the grisly sight in front of her.

"Do you have a telescope?"

"What? Oh. Uh, yes, actually."

"May I borrow it?"

"...Sure."

I thanked her, and trained the spyglass on the ship that had caught my eye. It was turning, heading north, but I would recognise the prow anywhere. It was the Admiral's flagship, the _Coiling Dragon_. Admiral Zhao himself was overseeing the hunt for the Avatar, and no doubt doing great damage to his railings after this defeat.

So, the Admiral himself is here, is he? Well, that's interesting. So he has no plans for the Northern Blockade any time soon, then. Well, we're all grateful for that, at least.


	3. Negotiation

_Or,_

_ Now This is a Story all About how my Life got Flipped-Turned Upside Down. _

–

I raised my cup in a salute to my host, and drank. I felt revitalised, a new man. A bath, a change of clothes, and a haircut went a long way to restoring my equilibrium, although I had not pulled my hair back into its topknot, instead letting it flow away down the back of my neck, something that is less of a social faux pas in the Earth Kingdom society than in the Fire Nation. Fire Nation upper classes take their hair _seriously_.

Across from me, High Chief Oyaji raised his cup in reply, as did the girl on his right. Her name was Suki, and she was the commander of all the Kyoshi Warriors. Oyaji was her uncle, but he had no part in her selection for the post- the High Chief has no control over the Kyoshi Warriors, and they swear allegiance to the island and its people, not the ruler. It's a fairly sensible method of balancing power.

This is one of the perks of being a Grand Lotus (acting Grand Lotus, actually). You're never at a loss for information on almost anything.

"It seems Kyoshi Island is indebted to you, Master," Oyaji said. I raised my eyebrow inquisitively at his use of the title, and he smiled through his beard. "No one with the levels of talent you displayed could possibly be anything less."

I politely ignore his attempt to stroke my ego, and simply incline my head.

"Although, we would like to know the name of the man we are thanking."

I smile, a little, and look at the floor. I suppose I should tell this man something. But how much?

"My name is Piandao." That will do, for a start.

I have never thought of myself as famous, yet I wasn't surprised when Oyaji nodded in recognition. I suppose he must have been narrowing down the possibilities of my identity as he spoke. I was, however, a little surprised to see comprehension dawning on the Commander's face as well.

"The defector?" she blurted out, surprised. I blinked. Defector? Is that what they're calling me these days?

Well, I suppose it isn't too surprising. I wasn't exactly covert at the fall of Omashu.

"I... suppose you could call me that," I admitted. "Although I would prefer it if you used my name." Jeong-Jeong might accuse me of stealing his shtick.

Actually, no, he wouldn't, actually. He would probably just glare at everything, say something that sounds intelligent until you realised that he's not being enigmatic to illustrate a point, he's just being enigmatic because he is an _ass_ , then sit in silence in the corner until everyone felt intensely uncomfortable. I cannot _stand_ that man.

"Of course, Master Piandao." Oyaji shifted, almost imperceptibly. I think I may have flustered him a little. "Tell me, do you plan on staying here long? I am sure we could provide better accommodation than the inn for you." He sounds hopeful, and I realise with a sinking feeling that he thinks that my staying here will mean Kyoshi Island will be safer.

I have to disabuse him of that notion, I am afraid.

"I am afraid I must be moving on soon," I said. "I had planned to stay longer, but... things have gone differently."

"I understand," he sighed. I think he does. But I cannot afford to take the chance.

"With your leave, I would speak plainly," I said, and waited for the nod of his head to continue. "The world is about to change. Forever. At summer's end, Sozin's Comet will return, and any resistance against the Fire Nation will be crushed, everything coming under the supreme and absolute authority of the Fire Lord. That is what the Fire Lord wants.

"In fact, it is what the Fire Lord _needs_. He needs a decisive victory, this year, or his reign will come to an abrupt and likely unsavoury end." The Commander at the very least showed surprise at this, and I turned to face her.

"Although the Fire Lord is the supreme ruler of the entire Fire Nation, a united court can do untold damage to his rule, should it so choose, and as of late, he has been having great difficulty keeping control. The Fire Nation has been bled dry by this war. Every day, hundreds of tonnes of foodstuffs are sent to the blockade of the North alone, and the average death toll amongst Fire Nation soldiers stationed in the Former Earth Kingdom is ten men per _day_. Support for the war has never been lower, and he knows it. The Fire Lord needs to remove all his external enemies in one swoop, or his internal enemies will destroy him. I am one of his enemies. Kyoshi Island is another." And a far higher priority than me, actually. I can destroy a company of men, but Kyoshi can inspire countless resistance movements.

"So I will not stay here. Doing so would not prevent an attack. It would only ensure that the Fire Nation arrives with enough force to destroy us all." They don't look like this is what they want to hear. Sorry. "A storm is coming, Chief Oyaji. None of us will survive it un" scathed? no. "changed. But hold on to your hope, tighten your defences, and we all might live to see an end to this war yet."

Oyaji looked up, for the first time in the conversation. "You believe that the Avatar can end this war?"

I had to smile.

"He might just."

"Hmm. You have given me a great deal to think about, Master Piandao."

"I hope it helps, Chief." I stood, and bowed. "And now, if I may, I will take my leave."

"Of course. Go with peace on the path you choose."

"May good fortune mark the path to your door," I replied in the customary style. We were both moments away from choking on the irony.

I made my way out into the mid-afternoon, and stood to my full height, stretching my back. The winter sun was bright in the cloudless sky, reflecting off the snow, making everything bright and pure. It seemed that they had gotten rid of the bodies already, but where the blood had stained the stamped-in snow at the side of the road, the reminder remained.

I stepped down the steps from the main hall, heading toward the inn. I still had that letter to deal with before I left.

"Wait."

I turned to see the girl behind me. I raised an eyebrow.

"May I help you?"

"I just wanted to thank you. For Kame's sake. She would be dead now if it wasn't for you."

Kame? Oh. The Kyoshi Warrior, I suppose.

"You don't need to thank me," I replied. I have never really been sure how to take thanks like that.

"No. I think I do." She seemed insistent, so I left it at that.

"Very well, then. Are the rest of your warriors..."

She sighed. "We were lucky. We didn't lose anyone this time." She didn't need to say anything else. The responsibilities of her position were beginning to crush her. Looking at her, I see clearly the legacy of a century of war. Teenagers, _children_ , taking on responsibilities of life and death, making choices that no one should have to make, fighting and dying because if constant war has taught us anything, it's that everyone is expendable. And so, as soon as a boy can wield a sword, he is sent into battle, and if he survives, he gets the privilege of dying on a different field. When all the men are dead, it is the boys who have to take up arms.

The war our fathers started is grinding our children into the dust.

Without thinking, I seek to reassure her.

"Take heart. When the battle comes, Kyoshi Island will not stand alone." It is cold comfort, but that's the only kind we can give nowadays.

In any case, she bows, and I return the gesture before she turns to her duties.

–

I had made preparations to leave tomorrow morning. I had authorised the use of a messenger hawk in order to get everything ready in time, a dangerous move these days. Officially, only the Fire Nation military are allowed to use messenger hawks now, but time was of the essence, and there were very few other options for getting messages off the island.

So another gamble taken, and I was weighing the odds for another roll.

This letter I had taken from the spies. It was bothering me.

Should I send it, carefully edited? Should I remove the pages I didn't want the Fire Lord to read, and send it off? Should I use the spies' hawk to send a direct message to the Fire Lord, telling him that I was moving, and daring him to follow me? Or should I just take the letter with me, or destroy it?

The last choice sounds the most sensible, but it's hard to say how the Fire Lord will react when faced with complete silence from his agents. Perhaps he will make a covert investigation. Or perhaps he will simply invade the island. Trying to predict what he will do at the moment is hard. Politically harried as he is, he might use this as an excuse to assault the island.

No. No, that's underestimating him. He won't act rashly, not yet. His people may be tiring, and there may be rumblings in his court, but he will not act rashly. He will weigh up the options, make what concessions he can afford, and twist it his advantage if he possibly can.

Put like that, he almost sounds familiar.

So, what to do with this letter?

Take it with me. It's good to know what the enemy is saying to each other. And it'll give me something to read tomorrow.

–

The morning came, bright and early, and I stepped out into the street. The village was already alive, and I drew more than a few interested stares as I made my way to the grocer's.

The shop was small, but well organised. Elegant; every item and every piece of furniture was given equal thought when it was being positioned. It's an art form.

The shopkeeper was a wizened old man, with startling eyes. They glinted at me, and he grinned as I intoned my head.

"Good morning. I would like to buy four apples, if I may."

"Of course, sir. Would you like to choose them?" he asked.

"I think your judgement is better than mine."

He grinned, and selected the fruit. I dropped two copper pieces on the counter, and touched two fingers to my collar. The man nodded in response, and tapped the counter. I followed his finger, and stifled a smile. What had at first glance seemed to be a knot in the wood was actually a stylised picture of a rose. Very clever.

I reached into my pocket, and placed three tiles next to the counter. The rock, the wheel, and to the man's surprise, the white dragon. The combination had one specific meaning: stay here, keep alert, and prepare for war. When he nodded, I placed three more down. The boat. The chrysanthemum. The white jade. Allies will come soon.

He nodded, curtly, and I pocketed the tiles and my purchases, and left the shop.

That man is one of the old guard of the Order, a throwback to a more peaceful age, when the Order was nothing more than a Pai Sho club. I disliked having to use him in this way- he was invited into the Order for his wisdom and his wit, not his martial prowess- but we did not have a choice.

The Order has changed, in the last few years. We have a more... direct way of doing things. I suppose that is my fault, really. When Bumi was Grand Lotus, he had managed to keep the Order effective without compromising any of the conventions. I don't know how to think like him, so I had to work differently. I invited several much younger people to join the Order, for example, although some of that might have been my being sick of being the youngest man in the room whenever we convened.

Some days I wonder why I was chosen as Bumi's replacement. Until Omashu, I was the most junior of the Masters, and certainly not fit to lead. But Bumi named me as his replacement, and until he is freed, I will fill his shoes to the best of my abilities.

–

My ruminations lasted until I arrived at the northern hamlet of the island, where the dock was located. I wandered in, relatively unnoticed, which I appreciated, and sought out the dock. It's in a small, hidden bay, less convenient than the one on the west coast, but without the giant monster.

I was looking for a particular boat with... oh. Well, never mind. It seems that there's only one boat left anyway. Hmm.

I made my way over to it, hoping that this might be the one. If he's already gone...

There was a wizened old man standing in front of the fishing boat, looking irate. He glared at me as I made my way over to him.

"You the feller who wants a lift to the elephant koi?" he snapped.

"Yes. And may I say-"

"Well, yer _late_! Look!" One calloused hand shot upwards, a finger extended towards the early morning sun. "Ye see that, boy? Ye see that?"

... _Boy?_

"It's the sun," I hazarded. "And I'm forty-two. I am not a boy."

"Yer damn right it's the sun, _boy_. And you know what that means? It means yer _late._ And you may be forty two, but I'm _old_ , ye hear me? You know when yer a kid, yer folks always say te respect yer elders?"

"Actually, my parents abandoned me when I was six."

"Well I'm the elder they was talking about! Now git yer ass on board!"

Oh, Agni, are you doing this on purpose? I'm sorry, but it's just hard to get incense sticks for sacrifice here.

I climbed aboard, the fisherman grumbling at dangerous speeds behind me. I had a feeling I was in for an entertaining trip.

"Say, what you want to go see the elephant koi for anyway? You'd better not be thinking I'm gonna give ye a lift to Chin. We don't go to Chin," the man said, ominously.

"I know."

"So what you want to go for? You ain't no fishing man, _that's_ fer sure. A fishing man would have been on time."

Oh, give it a rest.

"I have a burning desire to give you a gold piece, and I need to find a way to justify that to myself."

That shut him up.

–

I sat on the floor of the boat, my back pressed up against the side, trying to read the report I had stolen. It was uninspiring stuff, for the most part. I had deciphered the code- it was simple enough, once you got a hang of the metaphors and rhyme scheme- but really, it was hardly worth reading.

But at least it gave me something to do, and the old man and the younger one that made up his crew kept out of my way as best they could, seeing that I didn't want to be disturbed.

Hmm. The section on me is actually quite entertaining. They were taken in by my act, it seems, and they had been scouring all the information they had on me for a defined reason for my apparent descent into alcoholism.

Oh look, here's a section requesting an agent be sent to investigate my love life.

I had to stop at that for a moment.

Anyway. Moving on.

The report on the Avatar was detailed, but nothing I hadn't already surmised- the boy's status as a master airbender, the girl being a waterbender from the South, all that. The only new thing on that page was reports of an apparent rift between the girl and the Avatar. I hadn't noticed anything of the sort, and hoped that it wasn't as serious as the report made out.

Then I turned to the next page, and saw the report on the third member of the party. 'Early-mid teens, male, Southern Water Tribes. Non-bender.' And that was it.

I grinned to myself. Typical bender prejudice. But, if the boy was worth anything at all, the attitude on display here would only help him. It certainly helped me.

"Um...sir?" I looked up to see the young assistant looking nervous. "We're here, sir."

"Oh. Excellent," I said, stowing the notes in my bag as I stood. "Tell me, what time is it?"

"'Bout an hour 'fore noon," a crotchety voice from the stern of the boat replied grumpily.

"Perfect." I glanced towards the sea. The clouds were turning grey. Perhaps we would be in for rain.

"What you thinking, boy?" the man demanded. "I told you, we don't go to Chin."

"We don't, you know," his assistant parroted.

"I know." Oh come on, where were they?

Oh. What's that?

"Captain!" the boy said, pointing to what I had just seen, moving fast towards us. "Fog?" He pulled out a spyglass and peered into it.

"It's not fog," I told him. He ignored me, peering through his spyglass. Suddenly, he started, jumping back in surprise and fear.

"There's a ship coming out of it!"

The fisherman scowled. "What's it look like? Fire Nation?"

"No, it had sails! I think it might be pirates!"

Bingo.

Both men turned to me, and I sighed.

"Get us closer to them." They stared at me as if I had declared myself to be a pushmi-pullyu (a ridiculous idea on its face- the pushmi-pullyu has been extinct for centuries). I sighed. "It's not like I can do anything from here, and they could outrun you easily."

They conceded the point, and we were soon heading for the ship looming in the pseudo-fog. As we got closer, my companions got more and more visibly nervous, but their course was steady, until we were sliding along next to the huge, dark ship.

It was silent, ominous. Two huge cannons at the back belched out smoke, creating the trail we had seen. I turned to my companions, and handed the old man two gold pieces.

"Thank you for your time," I intoned. "Have a good day."

"...You too, I suppose," he replied, warily. "But what are you gonna-"

I didn't catch the rest of his sentence, having leapt the gap between the boats. My feet latched onto a small lip in the wood, and I propelled myself upwards, using the portholes and the slats of wood as an impromptu staircase. It was a very efficient way of climbing, as long as I ran as fast as I possibly could and didn't look down.

As my right foot hit the railing, I pushed as hard as I could, flinging myself into the air, and hitting the deck, absorbing the blow with a crouch.

I was completely surrounded. Pirates on all sides. A colourful bunch, to be sure.

"Well, look who we got here," a voice intoned, and I turned to see a man dressed all in grey and black, steel-grey hair and a _fantastic_ hat. He was older than me, but looked as solid as oak, and was a clear half a head taller than me.

"Captain. Using the smoke machines are you?"

The man grinned. "Well, I've got a reputation to maintain, Piandao. How are ye, you old lunatic?"

I shrugged. "Keeping busy. Yourself?"

"Oh, I get by," he smirked. Suddenly, he turned. "Barker! Where are you, you lazy dog? Show yourself!"

A scrawny man stepped forward, a grin permanently affixed to his face.  They named him for his job description, but he did have the look of a scavenging mongrel.  "I'm here, captain. Afternoon, Piandao."

I nodded.

"Barker, is our guest's room ready yet?"

"Did it this morning, captain. Like you told me," he added, pointedly.

The Captain harrumphed. "You actually did something when I told ye to do it? Have I died or something?"

The crew dispersed, and I was left alone after a few moments, as the captain and his lieutenant vanished through a door, arguing all the while.

I met the Captain some years back, before Omashu. He had picked me up from a shipwreck (another story, some other time perhaps), and offered to take me to shore, should I be able to pay. I gave him an impromptu sword lesson, and in return he agreed not to slit my throat and throw me overboard. Since then, we have kept in irregular contact. His crew have proved invaluable on more than one occasion, and we have in return lined his pockets. He's a man of his word, and so if you ask him not to tell anyone else what we are doing, he will immediately ask for double his initial price. I admire that kind of honesty.

Of course, he has no idea of the existence of the Order. He thinks I'm just a very busy troublemaker. Which I am.

–

I spent the remainder of the journey in meditation in the guest room that had been thoughtfully provided for me, and when I moved again it was early evening.

I paid the Captain the usual rate for travel- ten gold pieces per person- but didn't give him the extra ten, which meant that as soon as I was out of sight, he was going to send a runner to the nearest barracks to sell them my whereabouts. No matter. I don't intend to head to a town anyway.

I shook the Captain's hand, and headed into the forest.

One thing that has always marred my relations with that man is the fact that I don't know what his name is. Somehow, he never got around to telling him, and after a while it just became to awkward to ask. Calling him 'Captain' seems to work, but it always seems a little awkward to me.

Oh well. Now, which path is it?

–

It was long after sunset when I found The Tavern. Yes, that is the name of the establishment. Yes, I am sure that there is a colourful and hilarious story as to how it got that name. No, I don't want to hear it.

The Tavern is the largest and most infamous of thousands of dives. If you want to buy it, and it's illegal, from opium to women to murder to pretty much _anything_ , you can find someone selling it here. And this is where I'll find her.

I walked up to the door, warily. Now, last time it was the door, and the time before that it was the window. So this time it should be the-

"aaa _aaAAA_ _ **AAGH**_ **!** "

Ah. Top floor window.

Stepping around the comatose body, I made my way inside.

It was exactly as I had remembered. Tall, warm, and loud. A lot of people were crowded around a table in the middle, and I knew exactly what I would find there.

Fighting my way through the press of people, I saw at the centre of attention a woman dressed all in black, smirking at a hulking muscle-bound man, who was straining to keep what little pride he had left. Personally, I think that if he was serious about preserving his reputation, he would have ditched the headband by now.

And he's lost. What a surprise.

"Anyone else?" she asked, her eyes scanning the crowd, widening just slightly when she saw me. "Anyone else got the balls and the cash?"

I pulled out two silver pieces and placed them on the table.

"Oh, we have a contender," she practically purred, as I slid into the vacated seat.

"Evening," I replied, and readied my arm.

We clasped hands, and the contest began.

I had forgotten exactly how strong June is, and it was all I could do to keep our hands level. I glanced at her. She was smirking. My hand started to shake. Her smirk widened. As she went in for the kill, she was sporting a full grin, and the back of my hand slammed into the table.

I shook my head as she raked in her winnings, and flexed my fingers.

"I'll get you next time."

"Oh, Piandao," she said, mock-despairingly. "You always say that. You're all talk, and a girl gets tired of that after a while."

"I have-"

"A job for me. Why else would you be here?" she asked, with a roll of her eyes, as we moved away from the middle of the room, towards a small side table near the wall.

"Forgive me. I don't have the luxury of making social calls any more," I replied.

"I suppose I can let you off, this time," she replied. "So, what are you drinking?"

"Guess."

She shook her head, her hair flowing. "You're stuck in a rut, Piandao. So predictable, so _boring_."

I just shrugged, and she laughed at me as she went to the bar.

Very strange woman, that.

She returned quickly, with two ceramic cups and a flask of sake, same as every time we did business. I'm not _boring_ , I just think that sake is the right drink to discuss work over if we're going to meet in The Tavern.

"Alright, so what's the deal?" she asked, as I poured for both of us. I passed her a cup, and raised mine to her before I drank.

Aah. That's better.

"I want you to keep an eye on someone for me. Not exactly your usual line of work, but we can make it worth your while."

She smiled. "Well, I can't deny that your people give me all the interesting jobs. So, what'll it be?"

"I want you to follow the Avatar."

She paused.

"Well, that's something you don't say every day. He's really back, then?"

"Yes."

"Any word on where he's been this past century?" she asked, almost harshly.

"Nothing yet. Listen to me, June. This is going to be dangerous. The Avatar has returned, _as a twelve-year old_. He's got to get to the Northern Water Tribes as soon as he can, and he's got a long way to go. I'm sure I don't need to tell you that the Fire Nation are going to be trying to catch him. He's going to need help. It would be ideal if you could be clandestine, but keeping the Avatar away from the Fire Nation takes priority."

June raised an eyebrow.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to protect the Avatar from the Fire Nation as he makes his way across the entire Earth Kingdom?"

"Yes. Now, I-" A black-clad finger touched my upper lip, silencing me.

"Shush. I'm trying to figure out how much this is going to cost." Her eyes glazed over. "Ooh, I'd say at _least_ Nyla's weight in gold."

"Done," I said. We can afford that.

"Oh Piandao, you always know _just_ what to say." She drained her cup, and stood up. "Got anything for me?"

"Will this do?" I asked, and pulled out a tuft of bison hair that I had picked up off the stable floor this morning.

"That ought to do it," she said, and we both walked outside, where she showed her mount the hair.

"June, remember, if you ever need anything, use the tile. The Order will help you." The tile was a white lotus piece that I had given her, a few years ago. It granted the bearer some authority within the Order, although since June did not know the passwords it would be clear that she wasn't a member. "You really should have joined us, you know."

"Ha," she snorted. "Like I'd ever join a club based around board games. You'd have to have something to do with Pictionary before you caught my eye." She mounted her shirshu in a smooth bound, and turned the beast to the wind.

"Be careful, June. Zhao himself is leading the chase. You know what he's like."

She laughed at me.

"Why, Piandao, if I didn't know better I'd say you were worried."

With that, she punctuated her riposte with a crack of her whip, and in seconds she was gone.


	4. The Royal Palace

_Or,_

_ And Now for Something Completely Different. _

–

She was woken up by the sounds of movement outside her door. Her breath froze for a full minute, until she was assured that there was no immediate threat. Probably Father getting up in the middle of the night again. Nothing unusual.

She had been tense for a very long time. Her paranoia, she felt, was entirely justified.

She hadn't been wary until her thirteenth birthday. That year had held three very important events for her. The first had been her official naming as a Master, the youngest girl to achieve that status in years. Her brother, of course, had been incensed. She had replied to his jealousy with a few amusing comments, which of course he had to take personally. She sometimes despaired of her brother's thinness of skin.

The second had been her father's abrupt decision that she no longer needed to attend the Royal Fire Academy for Girls. At the time, she had haughtily assumed that now she was a firebending Master, she no longer needed any further education.

The third had been the betrothal and subsequent disappearance of one of her closest friends. That had been unexpected, and unpleasant. She had always known the girl was flighty, but for her to just up and vanish with no more than a hurried 'goodbye' had been startling.

Something had not sat right about her friend's disappearance, but she had not done anything about it until almost two years later.

Her (only) other best friend was the daughter of a retired Colonel turned politician. Things had been going well for him in court, and he was next in line to become Lord of the Southern Colonies.

Of course, that was _before_ he had been arrested as a traitor, put on a trial so one sided even her _brother_ could tell that it was just for show, and executed. His wife, fearful for what she knew was only a matter of time, begged her daughter take her baby brother and run, far away, as far as she could. And she had always been a dutiful daughter.

And so, just at an age where Azula had begun to be a political entity of note, she found herself alone, bereft of any potential allies, and cut off from anywhere she could garner more. Living in the Palace, the only people she encountered were ones the Fire Lord had vetted as suitable.

This was no coincidence, but Azula did not know how to deal with it.

–

The sun was on the lip of the horizon, and Azula basked in it, breathing deep as she felt her strength renewed. Sleep eluded her most nights, so she took whatever energy she could get.

"I don't see how this is supposed to help."

Azula sighed. Zuko never had the patience for meditation, and she supposed it was a hopeless endeavour to try and teach him any more.

The two of them were alone in the courtyard. Azula had, correctly, assumed that Zuko would better stand the humiliation (in his eyes, anyway) of being taught anything by his little sister if there were no witnesses.

Six months ago, the Fire Lord had begun spending more time with her brother. At first, she had assumed that it was because he was the only direct heir to the throne. But when he came back from these long talks they had more wary of her than when he left, Azula understood.

And she began to fight back. It had been almost reflexive- a sudden, snap decision, taken without any real knowledge of what she was fighting for as much as what she was fighting against. A small and secret war was fought over her brother's favour. Azula would _not_ let the Fire Lord take her last ally.

It started with a scaling back of the (from her point of view) harmless torments that she inflicted, mostly to amuse herself. It had occurred to her that her brother lacked a sense of humour, and as such might not appreciate her constant barbs. This had proved effective enough, but it still wasn't enough. Her opponent was intelligent and powerfully charismatic. She needed an edge.

So she began to talk to her brother more often. Little things, such as how he was feeling, what her day had been like. Just building up a rapport (and she didn't notice how it was slowly filling a hole in her chest), a carefully orchestrated campaign with one goal in mind- she needed her brother to _trust_ her. (She never realised that trust works both ways.)

Then, two weeks ago, she initiated the _coup de grace_ , the final victory. She offered to teach her brother how to generate lightning.

And just like that, the battle for Zuko's soul was won. Too easy.

Now, however, she actually had to follow through on her generous offer, and she was starting to wonder if it was really worth it. It was no secret that the instructors that had taught the siblings firebending had determined early on that Zuko showed little promise, but Azula had never believed that. After all, his father was widely renowned as one of the greatest firebenders in the world, and of course, _her_ talents were far from modest, so if there was anything he should have it would be natural aptitude. However, she was starting to see that Zuko just wasn't a natural. He would only ever really improve through rigorous practice, and that wasn't something he was about to commit to.

"I _told_ you, Zuko. If you're going to generate lightning, you need to be _calm_. Meditation should help you achieve the right balance."

Zuko said nothing in response, only closing his eyes and exhaling deeply. He was sitting, cross-legged, in the centre of the grass, while Azula reclined on a stone seat on the path.

She gave him five minutes. Earlier, she might have given him longer, but she had learned that if he was going to manage meditation, it would be almost immediately or not at all.

Today, well...

She picked up a small stone, and tossed it towards his head. He leant slightly to his left, causing the stone to miss him.

...Today was the latter.

"You aren't concentrating," Azula chided.

"I'm just that good," Zuko, eyes still closed, replied, in his low voice, with just a hint of a smile.

"You aren't good at _anything_ , Zuko."

"You _wound_ me," he riposted. "I'll have you know I make an _exceptional_ fruit flan."

Azula blinked, somewhat nonplussed by that, unsure whether or not he was being serious and boasting (in which case some serious questions would have to be asked later) or was exercising his underused sense of humour. Either way, it was too early for this, power of the sun or no.

Still, a reply was expected of her.

"You make an exceptional target, that's what you make," she grumbled, her head lying back against the stone armrest, her feet propped up against the other end.

"What's that? Is Azula's fabled wit failing her at long last?" Zuko asked, gloating.

"Oh, shut up."

Zuko smirked, but Azula resisted the temptation to rise to his challenge. After all, she didn't want to alienate Zuko. Better to let him think that he had got one over on her, in the long run. Even if it was galling to let him go on thinking that he had won. She hated it when people went around with misconceptions.

Of course, Zuko held a great many misconceptions, most far more important than that one. Soon, she would have to find some way to free him from them.

A few more minutes passed in silence, while Zuko presumably meditated and Azula tried to prevent herself from dozing off. Eventually, she decided that enough was enough, as people would be moving about soon.

"I believe that is enough for today," Azula announced, and Zuko opened his eyes.

"I want to give it a try," he insisted. Azula shook her head.

"Not today. Perhaps tomorrow."

"I'm going to try," he said, like Azula hadn't spoken at all, and stood. Azula bit back her reply in response to his rudeness- how _dare_ he act as if she was inconsequential?- instead retreating to a safe distance as he stretched.

He was going to blow himself up again. Then he would find some way of proving that it wasn't his fault, and sulk for the rest of the day. Azula despaired of her older and ostensibly more mature brother, sometimes. Perhaps Mother had dropped him on his head as a child, and her doting now was an attempt to make it up to him.

It was an attractive explanation, actually. But, on reflection, altogether too neat to be true, unfortunately.

Azula watched with lidded disinterest as Zuko began to go through the motions, his arms swinging in close circles. Sparks were raised, but he had managed that before, and the only result had been an explosion that had catapulted him clean across the courtyard.

It might have seemed amusing, to watch Zuko's failure after failure, and it was, the first few times. But, as the days wore on, and he responded to each miserable failure with a growing delusion that the next time would be the one that he managed it, that if he tried just one more time, he would pull it off, Azula had to fight down a feeling of almost revulsion. It was pathetic.

A flash of light shattered her thoughts. The sky split. The air roared.

And beneath it was Zuko, staring at his hands with a disbelieving half-grin on his face.

Azula blinked.

That... was unexpected. But good.

She should really say something. Ensure that he remembered exactly who had helped him achieve adequacy.

Before she could think of anything appropriately congratulatory that didn't contradict her stated need to tear Zuko down at every chance she got, she was interrupted.

Clapping filled the air, warm and genuine, and a shadow peeled away from one of the walls.

"Most impressive, Prince Zuko."

Azula froze, as if caught in the middle of some heinous act. Slowly, she forced her muscles to relax, and turned around.

"Uncle!"

Oh Spirits, Zuko actually sounded pleased to see him. She turned to be sure, and yes, he was sporting a big, stupid smile. She imagined that small beasts sported similar looks, following the head-light of the angler-leopard.

"I was just preparing for a morning stroll, when I heard talking,", he elaborated. "I have to compliment your form, Prince Zuko," he continued, stepping oh so subtly forward, beginning to position himself between the siblings.

Azula was having none of it.

"Well, he has been practising. It would be a bad sign if he couldn't at least get the part where he had to stand still correct," she said, forcing her Uncle to acknowledge her, at least.

"So your sister has been helping you?" he asked Zuko, who nodded, seemingly oblivious of the way his sister was being snubbed. "Ah, such harmony is a wonderful thing to behold."

Azula bit her tongue. It was hard to bear when he acted this way, but bear it she would.

He smiled at her, indulgently, his golden eyes glaring, and she felt she almost preferred being ignored. "You will have to forgive me, Niece, but I am old, and my mind wanders, and my tongue follows at times."

Old? He barely had twenty years on his brother. Everything about this man was a sham, a façade, a man in his late fifties miming senility.

"But, I find my props. Tea stimulates the mind, and calms the senses. In fact, I am on my way to have some at this moment. Would you both care to join me?"

The world slowed. Azula's eyes flicked to the right, past the stocky figure, to where her brother looked to be about to speak.

Oh no.

He was going to accept.

"Some other day, perhaps," she snapped, cutting across her brother. "We have many things to attend to." A transparent lie, at the very best. Their lessons would not begin until the afternoon, and they had no other duties. But she was banking on the fact that it would be rude to point out how rude she was being, and moved towards her brother, brushing past her adversary in an attempt to show how flustered she wasn't.

"We beg your leave," she said, following such protocol as she had to. "Come, Zuko." Baffled, the boy followed, leaving their uncle alone in the garden with the flowers.

–

"Azula-" Zuko began, as soon as the two were safely away, back in their wing of the palace. She cut him off. It was time to explain a few things, for his- and her- own safety.

"Zuko, I think this has gone on long enough. You don't seem to understand that he's _dangerous_. Ever since-"

"I've heard this before, Azula, and I don't believe it. He's _family_. He wouldn't do anything that would hurt us."

"Stop being so _naïve,_ Zuko," Azula hissed, angry. "He's not _interested_ in family, not since Ba Sing Se, and you know it. He's out for what he can get, and if we get in the way..." she let the sentence hang, but Zuko violently shook his head, ponytail thrashing.

"No. I don't believe you, Azula. You're jumping at shadows, seeing plots where there aren't any." He stepped away, frustrated almost to anger by the paranoia of his sister. "I'll see you later."

And just like that, Azula was left alone.

–

The rest of the day was quiet for Azula. It had been Zuko's day, and he was still not entirely prepared to talk to her, but she was prepared to give him a day. Mother had been ecstatic when Zuko had demonstrated his new ability, but the one thing that really hit home for him was Father. Father had seemed proud of Zuko's abilities, for possibly the first time.

Zuko had never shown aptitude in any of the subjects Father considered important. His firebending was average. His enthusiasm for military history was non-existent. His diplomatic abilities were a joke. All this displeased Father, naturally, and Zuko had struggled with the weight of failed expectations for a long time.

So Azula let him have his day, content to lurk in the background. She was only glad Uncle had been called away by urgent business, and wasn't here to spoil things.

Later, she had been able to talk with Father. She relished their conversations, all the more these days for their rarity. He always brought interesting news of the war, or of what was happening in the Fire Nation at large. But their conversation today had troubled her. He had seemed... distant. Almost distracted. When she had inquired whether or not there was some news that was troubling him, he had almost certainly lied.

Strange. He was usually up front with her.

No matter. Either it was unimportant, or he would deal with it himself, or tell her in due time. Father was one of the few people she was able to trust completely.

–

People called her Uncle charming, charismatic. She couldn't understand it. He was an actor, and a fine one, but surely people had to _know_ that he was acting? He was convincing, it was true, but surely people had to know that he wasn't sincere.

He drew people in, that was what he did. Physically, he didn't seem to be very imposing, a short man with a wide, smiling face, he wore spacious robes to conceal his physique. He portrayed a man unwilling to make enemies, a man ready to listen and to talk. And when you were drawn in, if you turned against him, tried to struggle against your imprisonment, the jaws closed. And then he had the audacity to act betrayed.

It frustrated Azula no end. Why, why were people drawn in by this man? His mask was ill-fitting, and it confused her to the point of anger trying to understand why he still wore it at all. Because behind it all, behind the façade of the jolly uncle, the tea-drinking, wise old man, were his eyes. He couldn't hide his eyes.

Azula looked into the eyes of the Fire Lord, and saw nothing but blood.


	5. A Call to Conference

_Or,_

_ Never Act Incautiously When Facing a Small Wrinkly Bald Smiling Old Man _

–

I headed north. After all, everyone else had.

I had reclaimed my eelhound from the stable he had been staying in, but I didn't ride hard. After all, I wasn't aiming to catch up to any of the major participants. I was aiming to catch up to the circus.

The closest town that housed an Order safe house was in Fire Nation territory. Technically, the entire Earth Kingdom was Fire Nation territory, but this town was in one of the few areas where the locals were no longer actively revolting. At least for now. As such, it would be unwise in the extreme for me to simply saunter into town. But the circus is loud and colourful, and brings with it crowds, and a hundred opportunities for petty crime. And this will create the perfect cover for me to slip into town.

I understand that men recruited for the Fire Nation military are having more than a little trouble in adapting to the role of policemen. Crime prevention is, in a great many ways, more difficult, and certainly more complicated, than fighting a battle. Criminals unaccountably fail to wear uniforms, for example.

The completely thankless task of policing the Former Earth Kingdom has all but crushed the morale of the soldiers here. For every man trying to do a job for which he was not trained, in a country he despises, policing a populace that hates him far more than the criminals he hunts, there are a hundred that have simply stopped trying, and a hundred more that simply delight in small evils, and have become hopelessly corrupt. I can hardly blame them.

Most people would, you know. Blame them. Blame the ones who just gave up in the face of the impossible. Blame the ones who never tried. I don't. I've been there myself.

Policing doesn't work if the people won't consent to being policed.

But yes. They can't police the Former Earth Kingdom properly. They're running out of ideas, and there are targets for them to meet. Justice has to be seen to be done. So, of course, they try to use force, reasoning that it doesn't matter who breaks the law, they can just punish _everybody_. But that just breeds resentment, as if there wasn't enough of that around already.

This phenomenon is one facet of a simple, incontrovertible truth. The occupation of the Former Earth Kingdom is doomed to failure. Perhaps, if Sozin had had the sense to use the power of the comet to assault the Earth Kingdom, instead of jumping at Avatar-shaped shadows, then the war could have been quick and decisive. If a generation had been beaten into the ground, instead of brought up preparing for nothing but war, then maybe the Earth Kingdom could have been broken. But no, it was a war of attrition, hardening the country, hardening the people, and while the Fire Nation seems to have won, it can't last. Revolution would spring up, even if we in the Order weren't fanning the flames.

It was something it took me the longest time to understand. The resilience of the people here. It's not something you see anywhere else, really.

Some days I have to wonder how arrogant Sozin was, challenging the whole world. The history books record that some of his advisers suggested an alliance between the Fire Nation and the Water Tribes, which would have made victory considerably easier, had the Chiefs agreed to it, but Sozin had rejected the idea out of hand. Apparently he took a dim view of 'savages'.

–

It took two days, exactly as I had planned, and by the evening of the second day I was walking into town, unarmed (the Fire Nation have outlawed weapons for everyone but them. This has, however, unaccountably failed to lead to all those rebels up in the mountains coming down to the barracks and turning in their spears), and dressed like a travelling salesman. I had left my eelhound in the woods. He's well trained, and knows the drill by now.

The enormous mushroom that is the main tent blossoms out of the ground as I walk towards the town. Torches had been lit, globes of fire set on wooden stakes hammered into the earth, and around and beneath them a crowd bustled.

Opening night.

I pushed through the throng, heading towards the town. I didn't have the time to take in the circus tonight. A shame, really, but I couldn't justify the risk to myself.

However, I managed to persuade myself to buy some festival food (a bag of fire flakes, some dumplings, and a bottle of rice beer) without too much difficulty. After all, I reasoned, a man walking down the streets with his hood over his head might be suspicious, but a man with his arms full of food on a night like this is perfectly normal. And I got to indulge, just a little.

–

The food was hot and greasy, and the beer was lukewarm and overpriced, I ate the whole meal on a bench in a tiny excuse of a park while the wind tried to steal my food, and the entire experience was _perfect._

And, like all perfect things, it was but a moment, and then I was on my feet again, walking down the back alleys. I kept the bottle, half for the look of the thing and half to have a weapon on hand. It has been a long time since I killed anyone with my bare hands, and I hope it will be longer still. A broken bottle is hardly better, but it's the principle of the thing, really.

Of course, I don't plan on killing _anybody_ tonight. But just in case it doesn't go to plan, it's nice to have backup.

–

The bar was small, full of smoke, and, for some reason I didn't spend too long trying to figure out, smelled faintly of eggs. I ordered a beer- it would annoy the barman if I just walked in and sat down without buying a drink, and an annoyed man remembers what annoys him- and sat down at a low table.

I let my eyes run over the patrons of this little slice of iniquity. A fighting man, his face a mess of scars, one even across his throat, he'll rasp when he talks, a young idiot, not drunk enough to pick a fight just yet, but getting there, an old soldier wetting his beard, trying to ignore Young Idiot. Away from the bar, band in the corner, better than I had expected, but they look bored to tears, a young couple having a whispered argument at one table, I'd give them three minutes before one says something they can't take back, and there he is. A wizened old man, looking directly at me. And grinning.

I stood up, and walked, not looking at the man, towards the ever-present pai-sho table. No one stirred, but a few eyes flicked my way, and I silently cursed my father again. Not for the typical reasons- that had hardly mattered, not since I had proved myself in single combat with a firebending master at the age of seventeen- but for the fact that he had been so damned _tall_. Well, I remember him being tall, anyway. But then every adult is a giant when you're six.

I sat, and reached into the drawer below the table for the tiles, seemingly engrossed in setting up the table. In a few moments, the old man sat opposite me.

He was good, I'd give him that. I hadn't heard a thing until he politely coughed.

"Might I have this game?" he asked, politely.

"It would be an honour," I replied, and placed my first piece.

The man raised his eyebrows a fraction, but otherwise didn't react.

"I see you favour the white lotus gambit. Not many still cling to the ancient ways."

"Perhaps those that do are behind the times."

With the two most important exchanges concluded, we began to arrange the tiles.

This is actually a quite clever way of establishing contact. The first tile played indicates the player's position in the Order, while the response to the 'not many still cling to the ancient ways', indicates why the player has come. I played the first and purest form of the White Lotus Gambit, and the only one that moves the White Lotus into the centre first. This denoted me as Grand Master (acting). And I had requested a meeting.

The pattern grew. The end pattern is always the same, but it's how it is built that is important. There's something poetic about it.

"Welcome, brother," he said, as we surveyed the table. "The lotus opens wide to those that know its secrets."

I nodded. No words really needed to be exchanged.

He beamed, and gestured we stand. I took my empty bottle with me.

On my way out, I bumped into the young man at the table, just as he opened his mouth. Just enough to divert his attention. It can hardly hurt.

–

Consider a group, formed of enthusiasts for one of the most challenging games ever devised. The group is small at first, but it grows, slowly, but secretly. The only traits that have to be possessed in order to join is uncommon aptitude for the game, and a willingness to learn from other members. So, after this club has gotten itself organised a little, the best players in the whole world meet, for tournaments. In secret, because it adds a little spice to the whole proceedings. So there are the best players of the game in the world in one room. They are all of a certain age, at least, and they are all, by definition, intelligent and quick witted. More than a few are important men in their home countries, rarely kings, but advisers, administrators. And old men like to talk.

How _powerful_ do you think that arrangement is? How much could this little club shape the world, with more permanence and ease than any warlord could, just by suggesting that the Fire Nation imports grain from _here_ , and the Water Tribes colonise _this_ island, or the Air Nomads stop staying at _this_ town?

They could rule the whole world from the back room of a butcher's.

This is the real strength of the Order of the White Lotus. It always has been. Sure, some of the most powerful benders and warriors in the world are members, but strength can be acquired anywhere. The real power of the Order is the fact that I can walk into a town like this, that I have never been to before, with only the address of a tiny bar in hand, and take counsel from five well-informed, intelligent people.

I sat on the cushion reserved for guests, and looked around the circular room. There was one blank space. My inquisitive glance was noticed by one woman sitting next to the gap.

"We usually find it's best if we don't wait for him," was all she offered by way of explanation. "He has to come from a way away, and sometimes he doesn't make it."

I nodded, and waited for the other three to settle in. Once everyone was quiet, they turned to me, waiting for me to speak.

"My friends," I began, "I come before you today so that we might decide what has to be done now. I am sure I don't need to reiterate the Plan to anyone, but the situation has changed. I am sure that you are all aware that the Avatar has finally returned. I have some ideas about what should be done in light of this. I would greatly appreciate hearing yours."

–

The debate raged for almost an hour. It was a very polite debate, with respectful nods and low voices and flowery language, but it was a debate nonetheless. The debate, eventually, narrowed down into two distinct groups. The first, led by the man from the bar, thought that the Avatar was little more than a complicating factor in the Plan. We knew already how we were going to make peace, and we had fine-tuned the plan to reduce the unavoidably high death toll it would bring. He argued that the last thing we needed was the Avatar charging around, challenging firebenders. He should be kept visible, but out of the way, if at all possible.

The other faction, led by the woman who had spoken earlier, a wizened old lady who looked like everyone's grandmother, argued that since the Plan came about expressly because the Avatar was absent, then the Plan should be reformed around him, now that he was actually back. She was also of the opinion that no good could come of Ozai being Fire Lord.

"He's a self-serving weasel. Remember that he's betraying his brother by helping us; who's to say he won't betray us afterwards?"

Because he knows just how deep the Order goes. Ozai is ours, through and through, and all it took were a few bribes, three long debates on the nature of the Fire Nation and it's place in the world, and one very oblique threat. He's self-serving, of course, but we've twisted it to our own ends, convincing him that the surest path to glory is with us.

Ozai the Peacemaker. It does have a certain ring to it.

The debate was halted by a muted thumping on the wall. The old lady stood, and cautiously bent an eye slit in the stone.

"Oh! Sorry to keep you waiting, dearie."

She stepped aside, and the figure stepped through.

Jeong-Jeong. Of course.

I stood, and bowed to the man, as the old woman resealed the portal behind him.

"Forgive me, Master," I said. "I was not aware that you were in the area."

Jeong-Jeong for his part just fixed me with a mad look, and nodded.

"It was difficult to remain inconspicuous tonight. I apologise for my lateness."

Well, perhaps you wouldn't be so noticeable if you just cut your hair once in a while. Maybe changed out of that foul-smelling poncho. Perhaps even took a bath on occasion.

Or not.

I filled the man in on the particulars of our little conundrum. He just nodded inscrutably. When my summary was complete he closed his eyes, and I could see every eye turning towards him.

I'll say this for him. For all that he has the social graces of a psychotic boar-hound, about the same odour, and none of the charm, he does know how to pull off the 'wise old master' act. Even I found myself wondering what he was going to say.

"The Avatar," he intoned, "is not ready. He is too young to be the focus of the Plan. Ozai will bear the strain."

And that was that. Oh, the debate continued a little longer, but it was clear that around here, what Jeong-Jeong said, went.

When Bumi was imprisoned, Jeong-Jeong was considered by most to be the natural replacement as (acting) Grand Master. He was powerful, had been considered one of the greatest firebenders in the world at his peak, and even now it was hard to say just how strong he was- he was one of those men that simply solidify as they get older, but everyone knew his distaste for his art- he had experience in command, and he and Bumi had got along.

No one in a million years would have pegged me as Bumi's choice of replacement. I was the junior among the Masters, I had never experienced command of anything larger than a squad before, I was certainly not known for my ability to solve problems, and last, but by no means least, I had only joined the Order as a last resort. My first and foremost desire was simply to be left _alone_. I had left the Army, and once Azulon saw how much it would cost to bring me back, he left me to enjoy early retirement, with a little light teaching on the side. I paid little heed to the world at large.

But then his son had to try and make an example of me. So I ran, and the Order took me in, provided I helped them with their Plan. I went along with it, because there was nothing else for me. All in all, I was hardly leader material.

But the orders came out from Omashu- Piandao is to be the new Grand Master (acting). And so it was.

I put up my hand, quelling the last few strands of conversation. It's nice to have one's authority recognised, even if it is only borrowed plumage.

"So it is decided. The Plan shall continue. However, I do not agree that the Avatar should be marginalised. Instead, I propose that, once he has made his way to the North Pole, he be introduced to the Earth King. The two of them together would be a powerful symbol."

There was a moment of silence, as everyone considered this. I let them have the pause, for a little while.

"So, let us vote. All in favour of the continuation of The Plan?"

One, two, three, four hands raised. The old lady sat stubbornly.

"And all against?"

Her hand flashed up, and I nodded. The Order had spoken.

"And all in favour of arranging a meeting between Kuei and the Avatar?"

Five hands raised. I nodded.

"Noted."

I left, once the details had been concluded. Brothers, cousins, friends, anyone who could possibly be of use to the Avatar and we could trust, they were all to me mobilised to ease his passage. I hope it is enough, although I don't think it is. But the Order cannot go to war even for the Avatar. Not yet.

The boy will need a lot of luck, and even more good judgement, if he is to get to the North unscathed. I hope he's up to it.

–

The night was bitterly cold, even though there was almost no breeze, just a breath now and again, rustling through the discarded rubbish. I set a brisk pace through the streets, my breath in clouds before me. The streets were nearly empty- everyone was either still at the circus or in bed- and all I had to contend with were a few patrols, and they were more focused on getting in out of the cold than on actually patrolling. Evading them posed no challenge.

I had initially planned to stay in the town overnight, but that was out of the question now I knew that Jeong-Jeong was in the area. The Fire Lord's spies had yet to find him, last time I was in any position to check, but that had been some years ago, and I was in no mood to take the chance.

Soon, I skirted the field that contained the circus tent, and stamped out into the woods. It was colder still here, and I folded my arms in an attempt to conserve heat as I picked my way along the narrow mud trail.

Eventually, after what seemed like far too long, I arrived at where I had tethered my eel-hound. He didn't look happy with the weather, and strained at his leash as I drew near.

I checked my saddlebags. Good. No one had seen fit to steal anything.

I pulled down my sword, and unsheathed it, inspecting it. Force of habit. I tilted the weapon back and forth, admiring the moonlight reflected in the blade.

After a few moments, I addressed the person hiding in the bushes.

"You can come out now."

There was a rustle, and a sudden shock of white. Jeong-Jeong emerged, looking faintly amused, and smugly unaffected by the cold.

"You have a letter." He flourished a scroll. "The hawk arrived shortly after you left."

"I see," I replied, and took the scroll. Unfurling it, I instantly recognised June's atrocious handwriting.

Then I read it, and my blood ran cold.

Oh no. Oh no.

Alright, calm down. What do I do? What do I do now? Can I get there in time? How long do I have?

I was faintly aware of Jeong-Jeong moving closer to me as I pulled myself upwards, into the saddle. I tugged at the reins, and my eel-hound began to turn, only to be stopped short. Damnit, forgot to untie the leash. A slash of the sword solved that.

"Is there a problem?"

I turned to face him, sheathing my sword. ...Jeong-Jeong could help. Yes, he could be useful.

I offered my hand, and my impatience must have been written onto my face, because he took it without question, and swung into place behind me. Instantly, I kicked the beast in the sides, and it sprang forwards, carrying us into the night.

I hoped to Agni we would be fast enough.

"Would you care to explain your sudden attack of madness, Piandao?" Jeong-Jeong asked, his words nearly stolen by the wind.

I half-turned my head towards him.

"Admiral Zhao has finally managed to achieve something. The Avatar has been captured."


	6. Rescue and Wreckage

_Or,_

_ Let Me See Your War Face. AAAAAGH. _

_\--  
_

Six hours in the saddle brought us to sunrise, and many miles north. I do not know this country well, and in my hurry I'm imagining roadblocks at every turn and ambushes behind every shrub.

This is what happens when I don't have time to prepare. I get nervous, and I get twitchy, and I make the wrong decision. For example, the smart thing to do here would have been to send out messages to the Order, mobilise our forces, and make a _plan_. Zhao won't do anything to the Avatar- he needs him alive- so our only advantage was breathing room. But I blew it, charging off into the night, with only Jeong-Jeong and a vague idea of where I was going to back me up.

Damnit. I truly am an idiot some times.

–

We were moving through the wooded side of a mountain when we heard it. A crashing through the undergrowth, some huge shape headed our way. Without hesitation, Jeong-Jeong leapt from the saddle and rolled into the brush, anticipating some sudden attack.

I rolled my eyes. I knew what it would be.

Sure enough, in moments, we were greeted by the enormous form of Nyla, June's shirshu. What I hadn't expected, however, was that the beast was alone.

In the morning light, I glanced over the huge beast as she enthusiastically greeted Jeong-Jeong. I didn't see any obvious injuries on her, and she didn't seem more agitated than usual, so I don't _think_ that she was attacked, and it would be very out of character for June to get into a fight without her beast on hand, so that at least rules that out. Probably.

Nyla's attempt to better get to know Jeong-Jeong was thwarted when he huffed, and snorted a small plume of flame in her direction, making her shrink back.

It seems nothing is going my way today. I didn't even get to see Jeong-Jeong get paralysed.

I could have done with a laugh.

–

Nyla had left an easy trail to follow, and follow it we did, ever upwards, through thick woodlands, skirting a wide stream, and upwards towards a mountain covered in trees.

I had to suppress a grin for at least some of the way. I had persuaded Jeong-Jeong, in the interests of speed and prudence, to ride Nyla. From the way he was riding, you would almost swear that he had been tied into the saddle, and was furiously attempting to undo the knots with nothing more than the full fury of his scowl.

Ha.

–

Soon, the trees began to thin, and we arrived at what looked at first like a cave, and then looked more like a ruin, carved into the rock, and almost concealed. It's an old Air Nomad way station. I've seen a couple before, in the Fire Nation. Both had been gutted- even after a hundred years, I had still been able to see the scorch marks on the walls. At least there hadn't been any bodies.

It was quiet as we pulled to a halt, but as I dismounted, I became aware of the sounds of a soft rush of air from inside the station. Then a pause. Then another huff of air. Breathing. Something big, from the sounds of it.

I drew my sword, and motioned Jeong-Jeong to go first. Standard small unit tactics- the firebender goes first. No one can take point like a man who can shoot fire from his hands, and you do _not_ want him on the flanks, unless you find something appealing about spurts of flame crisping your side.

He nodded, and stepped forward, his arm at the ready as he made his way up the rough steps to the entrance. I followed, sword out, but held low.

Jeong-Jeong cleared the top step, and snapped into a stance, causing me to rush up behind him before he lowered it, almost reluctantly. I peered over his shoulder. What met my eyes was hardly encouraging.

June was sitting in the middle of the floor, propped up against a rock, morosely prodding what she must have hoped were the embers of a long-dead fire with a stick. The huge white mass that was the Avatar's sky bison dominated one side of the room, clearly sleeping, judging by the regularity of it's breathing. Lying on the beast were two dark shapes that appeared to be people in sleeping bags. Piled up roughly between the beast and June was an enormous pile of ...stuff. Miscellany.

June herself had clearly seen better days. There was a long gash on her right biceps- jagged and torn, unlikely to be a sword or similar, possibly grazed by an arrow, which raises possibilities I don't want to go into right now- what looked to be a bruise on her neck- attempted strangulation? It looked like it, and if someone had gotten _that_ close to June, then the fight must have gone _spectacularly_ badly- and I didn't like the look of how she was avoiding putting any weight on her left leg. On top of all that, it seemed like she hadn't slept in hours, which she probably hadn't.

She glanced up, acknowledging us with a curt nod.

"So, you managed to get here in person. And quick, too." Her tone was, as ever, completely collected. Only once have I ever really heard June panic, and it was something I would rather not hear again.

I shrugged. "We were in the neighbourhood." Jeong-Jeong just glared. Not at me, and not particularly at June. Just... glared.

"So," I asked, "what happened?"

June turned slightly towards the two sleeping figures on the sky bison, and pointed at them. "As far as I can tell, these two got fevers, and the Avatar headed off to find medicine for them. I followed him, keeping my distance, so I of course ran right smack into a Fire Nation ambush. I managed to get away from them- they weren't actually after me, as far as they knew I had just stumbled across them- long enough to get to the Avatar. Wasn't pretty. Long story short, he got netted, I had to run. The only reason I got away was because they weren't that interested in me."

There is one sure-fire way to tell that June is worried, or off-balance. She stops making jokes at your expense, cuts out any attempts at banter, focuses solely on the facts, and, in extreme cases, starts talking in sentence fragments. Only after all that does her inflection change in the slightest.

"And these two?" I asked, gesturing towards the sleepers, ignoring the fact that Jeong-Jeong seemed to have lost all interest in the conversation, and was busy inspecting the pile of rubbish.

"They weren't hard to treat. I was able to get them fixed up easy. The girl woke up about an hour ago, for maybe thirty seconds, but that's about it."

"I see."

I sat down near the remains of the fire, and Jeong-Jeong, having apparently concluded that the pile of junk did not pose a significant threat, ambled over.

"In which direction was the Avatar taken?" he asked, abruptly.

"West," June replied, curtly.

"I see." He paused, staring at a crack in the flagstones about two feet in front of him. "I shall return presently."

I pulled myself together quickly enough to grab his shoulder before he had made it out of the station.

"Excuse me? What, exactly, were you planning to do?"

"Reconnaissance has to be conducted before any further plans can be made. I should be only a few hours."

I did not let him pass.

"Alone?"

He merely gazed back, serene as ever.

"I do not require your assistance, Piandao."

I gritted my teeth, beginning to get annoyed.

"No," I said, as calmly as I could, "but you _do_ require my permission, Jeong-Jeong."

He inclined his head, slightly.

"...You are correct, _Master_ Piandao. I formally request permission to scout the land west of here, so that we may locate the position to which the Avatar has been taken."

–

In the end, we persuaded him to take my eelhound. I have no idea why he thought going on foot would be a good idea.

I stood near the wall, standing straight. If I relaxed too much, there was every chance that I would just fall asleep then and there. I'll be fine as soon as we get moving, when the adrenaline starts rushing again, but for now I have to concentrate on keeping my concentration.

"So, enjoy your little cock-fight?" June asked, jolting me upwards.

"Hmm?"

"You know, you and Jeong-Jeong's little superiority dance. You have fun?"

"Hah."

She shook her head despairingly, and stretched out. She couldn't suppress the wince. I supposed it was as good a point as any to bring up that point.

"You look like hell."

My response was delivered with a glare.

"Well, don't you have a way with words. I've had worse."

"I know. I was there, remember?"

"Only one of the times."

"Your arm was broken in three places, you had an arrow in your shoulder, there was a gash a foot long along your back, and you had lost enough blood to fill a bathtub. I have a hard time believing that you somehow managed to do worse any other time."

She paused. "That was very nearly a compliment, actually. Thank you. And besides, I don't remember you being any better off."

I had to give her that one. My knee still aches when the weather changes, if anyone were to remove my shirt, they would swear that I had decided to tattoo a cobweb onto my chest (either that, or I had decided to fight a moose-lion with both my hands tied behind my back), and there is a patch on my right arm where hair may well never grow again. No matter- I prefer long sleeves anyway.

"Good times," she said, and I tried to agree. At least some of it had been fun, anyway. Well, exhilarating, anyway.

–

Silence reigned for close to an hour. June and I have never been quite on the same level socially- my idea of a good time involves a cold drink and a spot in the shade on a hot day with a book, while her idea of a good time... well, I'm almost certain men have died trying to find out.

One trait we do share, though, is a limited well of small talk. Once we were through reminiscing about the old days- something that we seemed to do every time we met, even though 'the old days' had been only one mission, lasting a full month- and we had talked about whatever we was at hand, we tended to just dry up.

So it just happened that we were sitting in total silence when the boy began to stir.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he began to move. It was promising- he noticed June and I within seconds, and instead of crying out, he reached for his weapon and slid out of his sleeping bag. Good reaction times.

I have to wonder what he was planning to do next, though. He was less than five feet from June, who had decided to relight the fire, and about seven from me. His companion is asleep, he himself has just woken from illness. Whatever plan he's going to come up with, it's going to have to be _spectacular_.

His plan, it turned out, was to try to creep away from the entire situation, towards the exit. Well, it's probably a better move than wildly attacking, anyway.

He got three steps before he stepped on a twig.

Oh dear.

"You should have been paying more attention to your surroundings." I shook my head, and the boy jumped a clear three feet in the air.

June sighed in despair. Let me have my theatrics.

The next three seconds were surprising.

The boy's right arm flicked, and as I turned my attentions back to him, a whirling flash of blue hurtled towards me. The movement of the thing was erratic- I had been expecting a knife, but instead the projectile curved through the air, deceptively quick, and the blade almost hit me.

Getting slow, old man.

A crack behind my head knocked the projectile out of the air, and I quickly moved to intercept any attempt to run off into the woods. Right now, I am hardly in the mood to chase anyone through the forest.

He hadn't moved. Really, I am having a little trouble fathoming his plan.

"...Who? What? Why? What's going on?"

All good questions, if a little inarticulate.

"And where's Aang?"

Aang? Air Nomad naming convention. Must mean the Avatar.

"That," I said, "is a very good question. As of now, he is in the company of Admiral Zhao."

The boy's eyes widened.

"Captured?"

"I am afraid so."

"What- but- when- … _Katara!_ "

–

The girl (Katara, sister of the boy (Sokka). I should really be taking notes) shook her head, slowly. She had taken the news of the situation a lot more quietly than her brother, but hardly better.

"What do we do?" There was a lot of quiet determination in her voice.

"Now? Not a lot we _can_ do, honey." That was June. "Not until our ... _friend_ gets back."

The boy glanced at June. "Significant pause friend? Who's this significant pause friend? In fact, who are _any_ of-"

"He is being held twenty miles to the north-west of here."

The boy screeched, and swung around, toward where Jeong-Jeong had walked in.

"Where did you- wait, you know where Aang is?" he asked, winding down as he went.

Jeong-Jeong ignored him.

"Developments are troubling. The Avatar is being held in a stronghold at the foot of a great cliff."

I frowned. I did not remember any Fire Nation strongholds in this area. Surely my knowledge of the land can't be _this_ bad?

"So," repeated the girl, "what do we do now?"

Jeong-Jeong glared, as if noticing her for the first time. Perhaps he was.

" _We_?"

"What I think _we_ should do now," I said, attempting to take some charge of the situation "is plan. What was your opinion of the security?"

"It was enough to render any direct assault...inadvisable."

"Any way to sneak in, then?" June asked. Jeong-Jeong just shrugged.

"Would it be best," I voiced "if we waited for them to move the Avatar?"

"No." The girl snapped.

"It might be best," I reasoned. "No matter how many guards they have, it will be fewer than in the castle."

"No. We're not leaving him in there any longer than we have to." Her tone brooked no argument, so I did not offer one.

I suppose she might be right, on reflection. After all, the Fire Nation needs the Avatar alive, not in any kind of fighting condition. They might take his eyes, or his hands.

Yes, I think we shall have to move quickly.

–

Jeong-Jeong led the way, riding my eel-hound. June was following close behind, on Nyla. That left me riding the flying bison with the Avatar's companions.

I believe that I have mentioned that I do not like heights. Well, it turns out that I like flying even less.

I glanced around, trying to keep the wind from my hair, looking for something, anything to keep my mind off the fact that I was hurtling through the air.

The boy was looking at me with a thoughtful expression.

"say something, would you?" he abruptly demanded.

"Pardon me?"

"Just say something."

"Anything in particular?" I think I see where this is going...

He nodded.

"Yeah. Could you say something about, perhaps, the importance of proper footing? Or maybe tell us a little about the intentions of the Fire Nation?"

I didn't say anything.

"Hah! I _knew_ it! I knew you were the guy from Kyoshi Island!" he crowed, seemingly very pleased with himself. I sat quietly while he gloated, but his sister was not so understanding, turning around from where she was piloting the beast.

"What are you talking about, Sokka? You know this guy?"

Sokka scratched his chin.

"Well, he showed up on Kyoshi Island just as the Fire Nation did, and stabbed a guy, said some annoyingly vague things and that's about it. Then you show up here," he said, pointing at me like I had done something wrong "with your friends, and you somehow know Aang's been captured and now we're rushing off to besiege some fortress or other and _what exactly is going on_? Who _are_ you people?"

I chose my words carefully.

"Call us... concerned citizens. We just want to help."

Neither of them looked convinced.

"Is it really so implausible? The Avatar is trying to save the world. People are going to want to help him. After all, isn't that what you're doing?"

Both of them looked oddly introspective at that. Perhaps they hadn't thought about what they were doing like that before.

I left them to it. It wasn't my place to say anything, and at least this way they aren't asking awkward questions.

–

"So," Katara whispered, as we all crouched in the undergrowth. "How are we getting in?"

I'll admit, it doesn't look easy. The stronghold sits squatting in the shadow of a cliff face, overlooking a river. A quick examination with the spyglass told me that the outer wall at least was new stonework. Cut, too. I didn't like the looks of that. I had hoped, when Jeong-Jeong mentioned a fortress here, that it might have been built using slave earthbenders (there are a few, but far fewer than you might think. Earthbending takes a certain stubbornness of will to even learn, and to break that to the extent where they can be trusted to use their abilities to build for you is not easy). That way I might be forgiven for not knowing about it- earthbenders could have built it in a matter of weeks. But no, it seems to have been constructed traditionally, without my hearing about it.

If I haven't heard of this, how much else have I not heard about? The thought is troubling.

There's time enough to worry about that later.

What I _do_ have to worry about now, though, is the uniform of the men on the walls.

I tapped Katara on the shoulder, getting her attention while her brother looked up.

"We should head back to the others. Come on."

We slipped back into the woods, where our various mounts and June and Jeong-Jeong were waiting. These siblings seemed perfectly at home in the woods, despite growing up at the South Pole. Light-footed, they made almost no sound, and barely even left a trail. I'm impressed.

–

"So," June asked, as we entered the small clearing that served as our base camp, "how's it look?"

"Difficult," I replied. "How's your leg?"

She shrugged. "Fine. It's just bruised."

I nodded, moving past Jeong-Jeong, seated cross-legged on a flat rock, to sit under a tree. I closed my eyes as I shifted, the bark at my back scratching at me.

Now, let's think. The Avatar will be somewhere within the main tower. There isn't a standard dungeon location, so our best bet will be to find someone who looks knowledgeable and beat the information out of them. That might take time, so the sensible entry point would be-

"What's he doing?" someone whispered.

"Planning," June replied.

"Yes. I am."

"Oh. Sorry."

"Thank you."

Now, where was I?

It took a few minutes, but I felt that I had hammered out a workable plan at the end of it. Explaining the details took a little longer, but everyone understood what they had to do. There was only one sticking point.

"Someone is going to have to stay with the sky bison."

No one seemed eager to step forward. I know who should stay behind, but I don't want to impose my will any further- I just want people to do what I want of their own accord.

There was an uneasy pause, as everyone glanced at each other. Then the girl sighed.

"I'll do it."

I nodded to her, as Jeong-Jeong stood.

"Thank you. Remember, once we are inside, we need you to stay by the cliff, out of reach. If any soldiers come after you, do _not_ fight them, do you understand me? We cannot afford for you to be busy fighting when we need to get out."

"I understand," she said, her voice resolved.

"Excellent. Let's get moving."

–

The sun was high in the sky, so we did the logical thing. We charged the castle with it at our backs.

Thank you, Jeong-Jeong. Thank you very very, very much.

I was aware of nothing but speed as we plummeted down, hurtling down at what seemed like an impossible angle from far, far too high up in the sky. In a matter of seconds, the castle changed from nothing but a grey circle on the land to a huge pillar of stone.

_Step one: we break into the castle. Preferably via the twentieth floor._

As we hurtled down, I closed my eyes, and focused on the feel of my hilt as I tried to ignore the sucking hole in my body where my stomach used to be. Arrows whistled, but I don't think any hit, and suddenly there was a slam, and I was knocked on my back as my stomach abruptly caught up with me.

I tried not to throw up, instead clambering to my feet. Jeong-Jeong stood tall, breathing deep, before assuming a stance and slamming a fireball into the wall of the tower with the force a thousand hammers.

"Go!" I shouted, and we did, leaping into the darkness of the fortress, Jeong-Jeong, June, the boy, and myself last of all. As I sprang across the short gap (don't look down don't look down) I felt the saddle begin to move, as the girl turned the bison away, toward the cliff.

_Step two: find an officer. Persuade them to tell us where the Avatar is._

We were in a mess hall. Only a few men were there, and they were woefully unprepared for us. I let June take care of them- she looked like she needed to work out some aggression.

"Come on," I said, and we moved out of the room, into a dimly-lit corridor.

Where do we go from here? Does it matter?

At random, I ducked into a room.

Another mess hall, this one much fuller.

Aaand... jackpot.

"Good morning, gentlemen," I announced. "Could I possibly have a word?"

The others piled in behind me, forming up. Two dozen versus four. Let's see how long this lasts.

The first man to charge went down from a boomerang to the head. The second was brought down by a whip-crack to the chest that knocked him flat on his back, but by now the battle was joined.

-Draw, turn the unsheathing into a diagonal stroke that rips a man's chest open- 

 

Duck, twisting to avoid a spear thrust

-Run my sword along the spear shaft, splitting it in half, leaving him with a splintered stick-

 

Twist away, leaving June to take care of the disarmed man, leap into a crowd of five firebenders

-Sword flashes once, twice, three times-

Lash outward with a kick to the fourth man's knee, he crumples

-Done.-

Wait.

-Wasn't there a fifth man?-

 

I turned to see the boy- Sokka, with a bloodstained machete and a stunned look on his face. The fifth man was dead at his feet.

-"Behind you!" I yell, and he turns just in time to avoid a sword strike, and set up for a killing blow.-

He doesn't take it.

-So I do.-

"Keep your mind on what you're doing," I chide him. After a moment, he nods.

A minute later, it's all over.

–

Only the officer remains, a captain of maybe thirty, with a thin moustache. He's cradling a broken arm, courtesy of June, but glares defiantly at us, backed into a corner.

I don't really like doing this. But there isn't time for niceties.

I step forward, towards the man, but feel a hand on my shoulder. Jeong-Jeong stares at me, and shakes his head. After a moment, he moves towards the captain.

"Do you know who I am, captain?"

I see the man's eyes scan Jeong-Jeong's face, and widen in terror.

"Y-you!"

I can hear Jeong-Jeong's grin, all bared canines, in his voice.

"Yes. Me. And you know then that you will tell me everything I want to know."

The two hold eye contact. In a matter of seconds, the captain is literally _sweating_ with fear.

"Yes! Yes! Anything you want!"

"Good. Where is the Avatar?"

Leaving Jeong-Jeong to his interrogation, I turned my attention to Sokka. He was standing against the wall, trying not to look at all the bodies.

There's not much I can say here. Not much but the truth.

"It gets easier."

He looked up at me, glaring.

"Not helpful."

"Good."

Any further conversation was cut short by a sudden crack, and I turned to see Jeong-Jeong nursing his knuckles and walking away from the prone form of the captain. Behind his back, June stared at him, blinking.

"The Avatar is being held two floors above us, in a specially-prepared cell. He is guarded by four men at all times, and has been denied food and water. We head right from here, through another hallway, then take the stairs, then the first left, third right, then straight to the end of the corridor. I apologise, but that is all I could find out."

"I think that should do," I managed, weakly. "Let's go, then."

_Step three: get to the Avatar._

We charged down the corridor towards the stairs, but before we got more than three steps there was a whistle, and I ducked just in time to see an arrow fly overhead.

Oh.

_Special consideration (1): the Yu Yan are guarding the fortress. If we stick to corridors and enclosed spaces we should be able to minimise their effectiveness._

"Run!"

We accelerated, more arrows following, but there was the door to the hallway Jeong-Jeong had mentioned, and we dived into it and June slammed the door as four arrows hammered into the wood.

Sokka was gasping for breath, but there was no time to rest.

Damn damn damn. I knew this was coming, but there's nothing we can do about it, nothing but-

"They shall have to be held," Jeong-Jeong announced, calmly. "I would suggest you start running."

Sokka gaped. "But-"

"Now. There is no time to argue. Start running."

Jeong-Jeong, you... melodramatic idiot. But you're right.

I glanced at him, and nodded.

"We'll be back. Remember, we need you to send the signal." No time for anything else.

"I shall hold them. Start running," he repeated.

So we did, up the stairs. June and I didn't look back, but Sokka did.

Elementary lesson of tactics- no one is indispensable.  He'll do well to learn that early.

–

We ran in silence, through the corridors. We encountered more men, but didn't break stride, hacking and barging our way through as we ran.

Then there was the door, with considerably more than four men guarding it.

I shrugged my sword free, and went to work.

The tight corridor worked overwhelmingly in my favour- half the time they hit each other with their attacks, and in a few minutes there was no one left.

My arm was sore, and I rolled my shoulder as June picked the lock. Sokka looked nauseous, but said nothing.

He's going to have to get used to this. His sister isn't trained, and never _will_ be trained in combat, not in the north. So he is the Avatar's only protection, his only guard. He's going to have to get used to violence.

With a click and a creak, the door opened.

_Step four: rescue the Avatar._

And there he was, this young boy, arms spread wide, chained to two pillars. And there was Zhao, holding a flame to the Avatar's throat.

"Stop right there," he drawled.

_Special consideration (2): Zhao. He's a thug, and can be hard to predict. We'll have to deal with him as he comes._

We don't have time for this. How long can Jeong-Jeong hold the Yu-Yan? Not much longer, I'm afraid.

June rolled her eyes.

"Sure, Zhao, kill the Avatar. After all, that's worked _so_ well before."

"Oh, I think the circumstances are different now. No airbenders, remember?"

"And what of your orders, Zhao?" I asked.

"The Fire Lord will understand," he replied, confidently.

"Will he? Iroh likes you little enough already, Zhao. Disobeying orders might be all the excuse he needs to get rid of you."

"Oh, when I-" he turned to face me "-you!" His arm snapped out, aiming his fingers directly for me.

Am I _really_ that intimidating?

"Well, this is a surprise," he said. "Yes, I think the Fire Lord will be understanding, especially when I present-"

The Avatar's eyes flicked open, aware that no one was holding a flame to his neck any more. A foot lashed out, knocking Zhao's calf, sending him off balance. Then the boy closed his eyes, and leapt, flipping forwards and yanking Zhao with him.

I couldn't follow what happened- the boy was too fast- but it ended with Zhao flat on the floor, stunned, with the Avatar standing on his back, chains twisted.

"June, deal with the chains, could you?" I asked, as Sokka moved to support the Avatar.

Now, what do we do with Zhao? He's out cold, the sensible thing to to would be to kill him. But that rankles, and besides, I doubt the world's last Air Nomad would approve.

Besides, there are other factors.

Some years ago, our informant in the Palace told us that a young Captain Zhao had come to the Fire Lord, bearing information that he …should not have had. Secrets that no man should know. No one seemed to know where he had learned the things he had, and he leveraged his sudden importance to his full abilities, making powerful friends, becoming the darling of the court. Naturally, we were curious, so we investigated.

It turned out that Zhao had, along with twenty other officers in the Fire Navy, taken a leave of absence and gone on an expedition deep into the eastern desert. No one seemed to know what had happened there- the sandbenders refused to speak of the men, and the few settlements out that way had little information. Accounts, scant as they were, differed wildly. Some said that they had gone in search of treasure, others that they were hunting the Avatar. On only one point did the accounts agree. Twenty men left in the company of the Moon-Shine-Bone sandbender clan. Only Zhao returned, riding an elephant scarab. The Moon-Shine-Bone clan did not come out to trade again.

We dug deeper. Finally, one of our agents located something. Once Zhao had gotten a good distance from the desert, he had located a whorehouse and gotten drunk. For an immodest fee, the young woman in question had revealed that, in a fit of drunken bravado, Zhao had mentioned a library, and boasted that he would kill the moon.

The library of Won-Shi-Tong. An unparalleled opportunity. An agent recommended to us a young scholar by the name of Zei, a professor of the now defunct Ba Sing Se university. I met with him, after losing my tails for a few days, and, after ascertaining that he was trustworthy, and a decent Pai-Sho player, inducted him into the Order and funded an expedition to find the Library.

Apparently, the Spirit Won-Shi-Tong was hard to placate, but Zei was able to convince him of the worthiness of our mission, and he was allowed access to the archives. And what _secrets_ he told us, and one above all...

Without Zhao, there would be no Plan. So he has earned at least one chance, I suppose.

"Come on," I said. "Let's go."

_Step five: get to the entrance we made._

Sokka supporting the Avatar, who was sporting grazes on his wrists from his little stunt, we made our way through the corridors. Surprisingly, no one attacked us. No Yu-Yan, no firebenders. Nothing.

Strange.

We made it all the way to the stairs without a fight, and I was stating to get paranoid. Were they amassing their forces, waiting to ambush us on the way out?

As it turned out, they were not.

We stumbled down the stairs- the Avatar nearly fell more than once- and into the hall where Jeong-Jeong had made his stand.

There he was, unmoving on the floor, all around him bodies of the Yu Yan. Amazingly, the room had hardly been disturbed- the floor was scuffed, but that was all. If it had not been for the bodies, you would have thought the worst that had happened here was a particularly enthusiastic dance.

And, of course, Jeong-Jeong was sitting in the middle of the floor, cross-legged, apparently deep in meditation.

"They were... held," he declared, dryly, as he stood, brushing the dirt from his knees. "But I do not believe that I faced all of them, and I do not think it wise to stay and make sure."

Well, hard to argue with that.

–

There were two guards peering out of our hole when we got back. June wasted no time in dealing with them, kicking one hard enough to dent the wall he slammed into, and slamming the other to the ground.

"I think it's time we left, don't you?" I asked, and Jeong-Jeong moved to give the signal.

Lightning split the air, and the temperature in the room rocketed briefly.

A few tense moments passed. I listened at the door. Nothing. I think we may have confused things here somewhat.

A few seconds more, and a rush of air announced the air bison's entrance seconds before a rush of white hair suddenly filled the hole.

"Appa!"

Then it dropped down a few feet, revealing the back of the sky bison.

"Katara!"

"Aang!"

"Can we get on with this?"

Well, the Avatar seems to have recovered a bit, but we're wasting time.

_Step six: escape._

We stepped back, allowing Sokka to help the Avatar onto the beast. Far below, behind the roar of the wind, I fancied I could hear shouting.

Once the Avatar was on board, we followed. I was the last to get on.

As I stepped forward, Katara suddenly lunged towards me.

"Look out!"

I turned, and as I did so I was aware of a lash of blue darting past me, slamming into the shoulder of the man who had been sneaking up on me, catapulting him twisting through the air. June must not have hit him hard enough.

I processed what had happened. She had seen him, and entirely on reflex, incapacitated him with a single strike.

Her reaction times are impressive, to say the least. And her aim too, which I'm lucky for.

I reflected on this as we flew away, exhausted all. If I put pressure on Pakku, perhaps he would...

No. Pakku has never reacted too well to being ordered around, and there are some things he will not do. Disrespecting the traditions of his tribe is one of them. She will have to become a healer, and I will have to hope that Pakku's respect for tradition doesn't jeopardise the Plan.

–

It was time for all of us to part ways. The Avatar had been introduced, excuses had been given, and now it was time for us to leave.

There had been a sticking point with June, though. The Avatar had recognised her as the one who had tried to help him, and insisted on thanking her.

Sokka, of course, had noticed, and sidled over to me.

"'Concerned citizens'?"

"Deeply."

"Hah."

But they were gone now, flown off into the setting sun, and now we three were preparing to go our separate ways again.

"Are you sure you want to walk?" I asked Jeong-Jeong.

"I enjoy walking. I do not have far to go," was the reply. I let it go at that.

June was going to follow the Avatar still, discreetly, although she didn't really understand why.

"I mean, all this subterfuge is kind of pointless now, isn't it?"

"Perhaps," I replied. But the reason the Avatar isn't in our confidence is simple. If he knows about the Plan, he might react in several different ways. He could leave everything to us, which is bad, because the Plan might fail. He might oppose the Plan, due to the ...morally complicated nature of some of it, which would be bad, because then there are suddenly three sides to this conflict, or he could actively try and promote the plan, which is bad, because he is twelve, and when was the last time a twelve-year-old was any good at subtlety.

So we shall have to manipulate him. A bit. Well, manipulate is possibly the wrong word. Just... make things easier for him. Converge on occasion. Perhaps we could organise a chance meeting between him and Ozai.

Maybe. But that's in the future. For now, I have other things to sort out.

A day's ride brought me to a small town, where I sent out runners to the nearest cell of rebels in the mountains. I authorised a team of earthbender sappers to make a raid.

Within a week, that Fire Nation stronghold was nothing but rubble.


	7. Unwarranted Initiative

_Or,_

_ Time Keeps on Slippin' _

_\--  
_

The days passed, as is their inalienable right. The ones spent in the wilderness passed easily- I have always appreciated the wild places, and the woods of the Earth Kingdom hold no terrors for me- and while I was away from people I relaxed. Whenever I spent more than a few hours in town, it was in a flurry of activity. Questions, suggestions, requests, ideas, they all began to swirl like a maelstrom of paperwork without the paper. It was all quite tiring, and I quickly longed to be back in the wild.

Still, the Plan seemed to be on track. A Fire Nation armoury was raided near Gaoling, and they never recovered the blasting jelly, or the swords. A bar fight gone wrong in Omashu left three Fire Nation captains dead. A grain caravan fell prey to a sudden and most uncharacteristic avalanche in the mountains. A thousand sporadic things, all devoid of pattern. All these things were merely preparation, warming up for the main event, as it were.

The operation in Omashu was, however, a problem. I had not authorised it. Inserting a field agent into the city had been a few shades light of impossible, and to take any overt action would alert the Fire Nation, and remind them to tighten their security. An alert Omashu could spell doom for the Plan.

The operation had been authorised by the men and women of the Omashu cell. They were some of the best and brightest of an order where being the best and brightest was an entry requirement, but it might be that Bumi had too much influence over them. They seem to have adopted his habit of risk-taking. It's troubling.

I don't know what to do. I can weigh up pros and cons all night, but in the end it all falls apart, because I don't know what to pick.

This time I think I can afford to leave it. I know the Omashu cell, well enough to know that they understand the risks they take. I'll trust that they had their reasons, this time.

Is that ineffectual of me? It's hard for me to say.

–-

As the nights got colder, I began to spend more time amongst other people. Not towns, if I could avoid it, that was still dangerous, but while I still had no one who had successfully followed me (I had picked up a trail in the days following the rescue of the Avatar. A master firebender, he had lasted an appreciable number of seconds. No, I didn't kill him- don't ask me why, perhaps I simply have no taste for it when I don't have to- I just knocked him out, tied him up, dumped him on a cart, and paid the cart driver a large bag of gold not to untie him until he got to Gaoling) I stayed at such rebel hideouts that knew me as a friend.

The system we have regarding the rebel cells is a simple one. None of them know that the Order is behind their existence, and none have sufficient details on the other cells to tell the Fire Nation any more than they already know, should it come to it. Instead, they answer to a particular figure- in the South, most swear allegiance to King Bumi, and are under the practical command of Captain Yung. In the North-West, Jeong-Jeong is in charge- his reputation precedes him, and few are surprised by a former Admiral of the Fire Navy leading Earth Kingdom rebels, and the ones that are are bright enough to keep quiet. Those two are the main commanders, although there are more, enough to initiate the Plan even if Jeong-Jeong and Yung are incapacitated.

This situation requires trust and ignorance on the part of the rebels, two qualities that the Earth Kingdom has in generous supply. I'm not sure what it is- perhaps it's as much a part of the national character as earthbending- but generally speaking, citizens and especially soldiers of the Earth Kingdom are predisposed to believe their leaders, and not question their orders.

It's helpful on some occasions, worrying on others, and mind-bendingly irritating on a couple.

Since I am, to the trained observer, quite obviously Fire Nation, I have had to run away from three camps that hadn't, for whatever reason, gotten the notice that I'm friendly.

Fortunately, I had no such problems here. Within a hundred miles of Omashu, they know me well.

–-

Today I was staying in a fortress up in the mountains. These structures sprang up faster than the Fire Nation could tear them down, and with a dedicated and talented unit of earthbenders maintaining it, the only way to effectively defeat such a construction without sacrificing almost all your men would be to starve the defenders out.

This one was well-prepared for such an eventuality, with huge stockpiles of non-perishable (mostly Water Tribe) food, and several farm animals. The men and women here seemed to be in fairly high spirits, although most of the children were bored.

It's not just fighters here, you understand. Whole villages fled their homes in the wake of Ba Sing Se, and more following Omashu, taking all their worldly possessions with them. So they ended up here, or places like it. They take it in their stride, for the most part. They have to, really.

Of course, every few months or so there's an excursion up into the mountains or wherever the local rebels are hiding, an attempt to smoke them out. But we generally know about them well in advance, and are able to warn people in time for them to move out, and often eliminate any evidence that they were ever there. Generally.

 

–-

I earned my keep while I stayed here. They said I didn't have to, of course, but I did anyway. A little honest labour is good for the soul, and besides, it builds ties to see this exotic visitor, a defector from the enemy, mucking out the stables like anyone else.

So, during the day, when there were no important new reports for me to look at (there were always new reports) I did my share of the chores, and in the afternoons, I trained anyone who would listen. It had been a long time since I had picked up the gently curved Earth Kingdom swords, but it came back to me quickly.

Most of those I trained split into three categories. There were the teenage boys, smirkingly sure of themselves, looking more to show off their talents to each other and any girls that were watching than to learn. These I showed little mercy and less patience. There were seven the first day, and by the third, only four remained, their egos thoroughly cut down to size.

The second category were serious swordsmen, all over thirty, here to ensure that they were still in shape. I could teach them little of the basics, but I put them through their paces, taking them three at a time, making sure they had to _work_. Several were less than happy to be cut back down to size, but at least they stayed. I taught them to defend themselves from multiple opponents, getting them to fight one another. I reminded them what it meant to fight for their lives when they forgot and started playing by the rules. I hoped it would be enough to keep most of them alive.

The third group were the most rewarding, though. Young people, most of them, boys and girls (everyone has to know how to fight up here, just in case they don't have a choice), but a few older, farmers, mothers, bankers. All had one defining characteristic. They had never picked up a sword in their lives.

These people were relying on me to keep them alive. I had to train them, and if I didn't do it well enough, they would die, half trained and convinced that was enough. It was quite a responsibility.

I think I managed it, though.

–-

I was planning to spend a week here, initially, but some of the pupils under my tutelage seemed promising, and so I decided that I could spend a fortnight instead. I fell into a routine- I would wake with the sun, have breakfast, assist with the few strips of farmland, have lunch, train with my students, have dinner at sunset, train with my students for another few hours, and then the rest of the evening was my own. I usually meditated under the starlight. When the lights go out up in the mountains, the stillness can take your breath away.

Then, one night, the moon turned to blood.

–-

Azula was walking the halls again. Sleep continued to elude her. So far, the only person who had mentioned it was Father- he had seemed concerned, and told her she should retire earlier. She had taken his advice, but so far it hadn't helped.

She was worried about Father. He had been distant recently. Distracted. Almost... unsure. Of something. And he wouldn't tell her what was wrong.

It irked her greatly. And when she was irked, it ate away at her head until she did something about it. But this time, it didn't seem that there was anything _to_ do. She didn't know enough.

For a brief moment, she considered spying on Father. But that was hardly practical.

So she couldn't sleep, and so she walked through the palace halls.

Tonight her wanderings took her, without any interaction with her higher brain, to the garden courtyard. It was clear in the moonlight, and cold for the Fire Nation. She stopped on the pathway, glancing briefly at the night sky. A full moon. She didn't bother to notice the stars.

Then her eyes dropped, and saw the hunched figure below the cherry tree.

Instantly, her arm snapped forward, ready to blast the intruder with flame the moment they stood. Then she heard a ragged breath, a long, tired sigh.

A crack of sparks, and the figure conjured the smallest of flames, setting fire to a slip of paper, crushing the ashes in his hands and killing the light with them, and standing, slowly, achingly.

Uncle. Azula kept her stance.

"Ah, Niece," he said, not looking at her. "What keeps you awake at this hour?"

Azula pretended to relax.

"I was merely enjoying the quiet."

"As was I, Niece, as was I. Sometimes, I wish... but wishes are the thoughts of a foolish man." He wasn't talking to her.

Azula blinked. Why had she thought that? Of course he was talking to her. There wasn't anyone else _here_.

"Would you stay awhile?" he asked. "I would... very much appreciate the company." Every word was slow, laboured. Tired, and... sad? She sifted through his inflections as best she could, trying to siphon off those that he was putting on, evaluating those he was exaggerating for effect, and trying to uncover the truth.

Leaving was not an option.  Not while she had a chance to figure him out.

"Of course." She remained standing where she was, and Iroh acted as if he had expected no different.

In the moonlight, Azula found herself analysing the Fire Lord. He was different to how he appeared in the day. His posture was easy to read- he was hunched, and slumped. His eyes were fixed on the ground. He was tired. Had she caught him with his defences down? Worth remembering for later.

"Do you come here often?" she asked, as innocent as you please.

He chuckled, and she inwardly cursed herself for breaking the spell. Every moment of weakness he showed now was precious- it gave her something to look for during the day.

"As often as I can, though not as often as I would like." He headed towards her. "But now, I think it would be best if I-"

The sky was draped in blood.

Her eyes were dragged upwards, to the full moon. A bloodstained shadow was dragged across it, a swirling mass of _wrong_ , a hole in the sky, a silent scream, and she knew without thought that something was dying, dead.

Beside her, her Uncle was shaking.

"No," he said, anger vibrating through the single syllable with the purpose of a knife-edge. "Zhao, what have you _done_?"

Azula barely heard him. She simply stared upwards, to the gouged hole in the night. She couldn't look away.

–-

What is _happening_?

There's no time to ask, no time to wonder, no time to guess, just time to stand and stare at the tear in the sky.

The Moon Spirit. It must have...

Zhao has made good on his boast.

Oh, this will not end well.

–-

Azula stared, transfixed.

It was... amazing. The sheer _force_ of the death- and she knew something was dead, knew it like she knew the sun was life and night was cold- reverberated throughout her skull, jabbing and prodding and _screaming_ -

There was a bellow. Not here, not in the palace. She doubted it was even in this world. But it was there nonetheless, in her heart and in her head, a howl of _fury_ , and in that moment she was not Azula, she was not anything.

_Everything he loved was dead._

_Someone would pay. Everyone would pay._

–-

I'm rushing through the camp, trying to find someone who can do anything- a lost cause, but I never could judge them- and all around me benders are screaming and collapsing and it's rippling, right around the world, and now it's started the wave will never stop and _this is why we need balance_!

–-

She was screaming, somewhere in the dark. Screeching and howling and there's a tiny voice saying _no_ but she just screams _yes_ and she raises his arm to smash the beasts and their toys away.

And it's everything and nothing she wants.

Fire and stone is raised against her.  Futility. They cannot hurt him.

It won't bring her back.

And there is the voice, screaming _no_

And the moment passes. She is Azula again.

And she passes out, but her mind is her own.

–-

As soon as it starts, it's over. Benders are collapsed all over, and those of us lucky enough not to be blessed by the Spirits are standing, bewildered.

What _happened_?

All I can think of is that the reports I get tomorrow will probably be very interesting indeed.

–-

When Azula woke, the next morning, in her own bed, all she remembered was a nightmare of deep water and darkness.


	8. Insence

_Or,_

_ Be All My Sins Remember'd. _

_\--  
_

The reports came flooding in. Across the world, this shudder had been felt. After the twentieth, it seemed to me that a pattern was falling.

After the thirtieth, I was sure there was a pattern. So I did the logical thing. I threw my sleeping bag to one side, and arranged all the reports by point of origin, from northernmost to southernmost.

And there was my pattern, an ever-increasing wave. The northernmost point- a tiny village on Narwhal Island- reported unexplained headaches in benders. Further south, on a level with Ba Sing Se, benders were going into violent fits. Ba Sing Se itself was almost consumed by fire (again). Further south again at the capital, and things start going wrong. Heart attacks, psychotic episodes, temporary insanity.

A few miles south, into the villages in the Fire Nation and wilderness of the Earth Kingdom, and firestorms burn towns and villages to the ground. Someone's grandfather drops dead on the spot.

And then it just... stops. With such precision that with a ruler and a map I could draw you a straight line just where it ends.

Strange. And I haven't received any report from Pakku.

–-

Nearly a week passed, and no word from the North Pole. People are asking what happened, worried, confused, angry. We were lucky. If it hadn't stopped...

Things could have been worse. That's worth remembering.

Word did come, however, from our man in the Palace. Iroh is... displeased. And when the Fire Lord is displeased, things happen very quickly. Fortunately for the Court, most of his anger is directed towards Admiral Zhao, but they seemed ...subdued, apparently. Perhaps they had gotten a little used to the idea of having undue influence, and forgot who exactly the Fire Lord was.

Apparently, he is the kind of man to send two warships of Palace Guard to drag his Admiral back to the Fire Nation for a court martial. I'll say this for him; when he decides to take action, he doesn't hang around. I'd be surprised if Zhao ever survives to get to his trial.

Of course, that depends entirely on the assumption that Zhao is still even alive. Which is far from certain.

–-

The report from Pakku arrived today. It was... unhelpful. Only two people were near Zhao when he committed this atrocity, and neither of them are talking. One of them is dead, and the other is Sokka. The Avatar and the siblings are planning to leave the North Pole. Pakku requests permission to take waterbenders south, to aid his sister tribe.

There was another report, too.

–-

I spent the rest of the morning helping on the strips of farm land. It was a cold day, but the hard work warmed me fairly well. The ground I was working needed tilling- the cabbages had grown well, and been harvested- and the ground was cold. It was pleasingly difficult.

Some hours passed in this fashion.

Until I was interrupted by a tremulous voice.

"...Master Piandao?"

I paused, looking over my shoulder. It was a young girl, about twelve years old. She looked ...sheepish.

"Yes?"

"Well, everyone's stopping for lunch now, an' I was told to tell you, so, I am. It's lunchtime."

"Hmm? Oh, so it is."

So I stopped.

–-

Lunch was soup and bread.

I sat alone at a busy table, eating (drinking? I can never tell which is right with soup) my soup. It was too hot, but I had it anyway.

–-

It was colder than usual in the afternoon. It wasn't the sun's fault- it was trying it's best. And the cold is only an added incentive to get properly warmed up.

Today I was teaching my students to... to...

Damnit. This isn't right.

"...Master Piandao?"

"...Master Piandao?"

There's some muttering. How nice.

"He's been standing there with his eyes closed for five minutes. What should we do?"

"...Take a swing at him?"

"Shujuan! Be serious!"

"I was."

"Well, you do it, then!"

"...Fine! I will!"

I duck the fist and nearly break the girl's arm before I realise what I am doing.

I opened my eyes. The girl who's arm I had locked was trying to keep her (surprisingly green) eyes from watering. I quickly released her.

"I apologise," I said.

"It's nothing, Master," she replied. "Are you alright?" I could hear fifteen pairs of ears surreptitiously straining.

"I... practise amongst yourselves. Groups of three, one point rotation until you feel ready, then two against one, two point rotation. I will return presently."

The students looked uncomfortable, but none of them said anything. I began to walk away.

The one who had tried to hit me dashed after me once I had got a few feet away.

"Are you alright, Master?" She had the audacity to grab at my shoulder. I let her. I suppose attempting to break my nose gets rid of some social awkwardness.

"It's nothing you need to worry about," I told her, truthfully.

She wasn't convinced. "Have you had some bad news, Master?"

Perceptive. I told her to make sure that everyone was training, then retired to my crude shelter.

It was dark, with only an oil light to potentially illuminate the room, once I had shut the door. I ignored it, and dropped the sword haphazardly on the floor, before descending on my pack. There was something I needed.

A small block of wood, and four sticks of incense. I lit the sticks, sat down cross-legged in front of them, and closed my eyes, drinking in their woody scent. It reminded me of home.

The night the moon died, the Spirit of the Ocean joined with the Avatar, and together in their rage they smashed the blockade of the North. This is one of the most decisive victories for our rough coalition in over twenty years.

Today, I received a report from the Fire Nation. The estimates of the death toll have arrived.

Roughly four thousand of the men and women of the Fire Navy died that night.

Agni, I wish I could say I'm having a little trouble understanding my life right now.

I prayed for forgiveness. The usual words were no use to me- they were written with a mind to accidental sin, so I was forced to improvise slightly. It's probably not right; my knowledge of the Old Tongue only goes so far; but I think it works.

"What I have done with my hands or feet, or speech, my body and my actions, what I have heard and seen, and thought, all my mistakes, both knowingly and unknowingly, please forgive them all, Great All-Seeing Agni, Lord of the Undying Light."

It's not enough, but the mantra is soothing. I have been told I have a pleasant singing voice.

The thing that gets me, though, the thing that hits home? I bought the incense sticks. I prepared for this. I was _waiting_ for this.

And it's true. I had expected something like this. Perhaps not as soon as this, but I knew that the Blockade would have to be broken. And I am not so much a fool as to imagine that could be resolved without a great slaughter.

I will do what I have to, to ensure peace. I do not like it, though.

I spent the rest of the day in meditation.

–-

It was night when I ventured outside. The moon was there, waning but still strong.

Was it just me, or was there something... _different_ about it?

Huh. I'm just looking for differences.

I wonder if there's anything to drink in this place. For the first time in months I find myself _really_ wanting a drink.

The urge will pass, I'm sure.

I sat on a log, staring upwards at the sky. I remember nights like this, the stars so clear and defined it's like you could just reach up and snatch a handful out of the air, up in the mountains of the southern Fire Nation, when I was younger. I was a boy the first time I saw stars like that- the instructors in the Boys' Camp thought we should get experience hiking and camping, and so took us on a trip- and I have always enjoyed just watching them.

"Hello? Is someone- oh! Master Piandao!"

I turned to see who it was. Oh, it's that Shujuan girl.

"Good evening," I replied.

After a few moments, I glanced sideways. She was still there.

"Do you mind if I stay for a while? It's just that I could use some company and-"

"Of course," I replied, cutting off what I could tell would be a long speech, and she exhaled gratefully, and flopped down on the log. She was quite close. Closer than would be a casual seat from her initial standing place.

I glanced her way again. She was fairly attractive, in a subdued way. She had shoulder-length black hair, her figure didn't seem to be much to speak of either way, but her face was pleasingly composed, and I have mentioned her eyes before, but they really were her best feature.

I ran that sentence again in my brain.

Make that _probably_ her best feature.

I thought she might be early twenties. Roughly half my age.

I wondered why my thoughts were taking this direction. They haven't, not for a while.

That was probably the reason, actually.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"I'm-" I'm what? Tired? Yes. Cold? Yes. Hungry? Yes. Guilty? Yes. Unhappy? Yes. Lonely? Yes.

"I'm homesick."

"Oh." She processes this, while I wonder when I started telling the truth. "You are from the Fire Nation, aren't you?" she asks, more as a matter of course than from any curiosity. She knows the answer.

"Yes, I am."

"Why did you leave?"

I exhaled, and told her.

"I was a young man. Not even thirty. I was successful, I was cocky, and I was brilliant. What I wasn't was particularly interested in fighting this war any more. I figured that that would only get me killed. So I deserted, and decided to take a little tour of the world. I had money to burn, so I got a long way. The first thing I did was find the finest swordsmaster in the Earth Kingdom, and challenged them to a duel.

"She beat me hands down. But didn't kill me. She asked me if I wanted to learn. I told her I wasn't particularly interested. She told me too bad, she wanted to teach."

She laughed a little at that.

"So she did. For two years, she taught me everything she knew. She didn't let me leave until I could beat her in a fight. It took me two years, but I managed it in the end. Two years before I would have killed her without a second thought. I didn't, when I had the chance. Something had changed, a little, but enough.

"For the next eight years, I travelled the world, looking and learning, not just swordsmanship, but everything I could. Art, music, food, anything and everything. I even sneaked into the Northern Water Tribe to learn there." Of course, by then I was a junior Order member, so it wasn't as hard as all that.

"One day I climbed a mountain, and entered the Southern Air Temple."

She gasped. "What was it like?"

"It was a tomb. There was nothing there but bodies and the carvings on the walls." That came out more bitter than I intended.

"So you joined the fight against the Fire Nation?" she asks, and I can see the story playing out in her head, the dramatic hero, faced with the atrocities of his country, is left with no honourable recourse but to take up arms against them.

"No. I went home. I was tired, and I had no taste for warfare. I just wanted to go home, close my doors, and only come out when I ran low on food.

"But it didn't work out that way, obviously. Azulon, now elderly and infirm, decided that I was deliberately taunting him, and sent an entire company to ensure my arrest."

"And so you fled?"

"No. I killed them. Most of them. The ones that left that day carried my message to the Fire Lord. I wanted to be left alone.

"But his son didn't get that message, it seems, and as soon as his father was carried away by illness and he was Fire Lord, he demanded that I be brought to justice."

"So _then_ you fled," she suggested, thoroughly tired of my defying her expectations.

"Yes. I had barely survived the last time, and had no wish to repeat the gamble on much shorter odds. I fled, and Bumi took me in. And the rest, as they say, is history. I told Bumi to fight, and Omashu paid the price."

The night was quiet.

"My story isn't as interesting," Shujuan said, after a while. "I was born in Omashu. My father was a potter. I had a brother. My mother died in childbirth. My father and brother were killed in the siege of the city." She was quiet, and very composed.

There's only one thing to say. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I knew them both as well as I knew anyone. They both would have agreed with you. Sometimes you have to fight."

I shook my head. "Fighting then was a mistake."

"At least you took the chance. Who can say what difference your choice meant?"

I shrugged, which looks strange sitting on a log. "Perhaps you are right. And now you have joined the rebels."

"Yes. You think I'm out for revenge."

"I didn't say that, and I wasn't going to. But yes, a part of me was thinking that."

"Maybe I am. Does it really matter? I mean, does it matter why I'm here? I'm here, and I'm going to help any way I can. My reasons don't matter, really."

I shook my head. "Reasons are important."

"Then why did you choose to fight?"

I blinked.

"Were you deliberately being hypocritical in order to set that up?"

She smirked, in a way that could only be described as coquettish.

"Maybe."

"Huh. Do you play pai sho, by any chance?"

"Once. I hated it. Why?"

"Just an idle thought."

–-

I left the rebel stronghold in a week. I had to move on. I had things to do.


	9. Shadowing

_Or,_

_ Well, if Crime Fighters Fight Crime and Fire Fighters Fight Fire, What do Freedom Fighters Fight? _

–

A full month had passed since the destruction of the Northern Blockade. Spring was upon us.

Zhao was still on the loose. We think. We're not sure. Communications up there are a complete nightmare. For the Fire Nation, anyway. The Water Tribe is open for the first time in the better part of ten years. We're still trying to adjust to being able to talk to each other up there. Pakku has left, with the Avatar. He says he will stay with them until they can come up with a plan of action that satisfies him. So they will be together for a while.

I have stayed on the move. I avoided conflict where I could.

Today, I could not avoid conflict.

"Alright," I said to the man-boy behind me, in the calmest voice I could, "on my mark, we're going to move, alright? Is everyone together?"

He nodded, and clenched his fists nervously. Behind him were a group of farmers with tools, although tool is suddenly the wrong word for a long blade attached to four feet of wood, a war veteran, and a few teenagers who looked just young enough to not have had the idealism kicked out of them quite yet.

At least two of them were part of the extended family of a small-time 'freedom fighter', part of a gang. I had met them in the woods a few days earlier. Well, they had ambushed me. Well, they _thought_ they had ambushed me.

Amazingly, they actually listened to me when I explained the status quo to them.

" _Agh!"_

" _He's got Jet!"_

" _What are you waiting for? Shoot him!"_

" _No one is shooting anyone."_

I have found that when I speak in a certain way- low and apparently quieter, although not _actually_ any quieter- people tend to stop what they're doing and listen. It's an ability I have to try not to overuse.

" _...Bu-"_

" _You will listen to me. Do any of you know who I am?"_

" _No! An' we don't care, neither!"_

" _My name is Master Piandao."_

" _So? Why should we care what some Fire Nation scumbag is called?"_

" _Longshot, are you okay? You've gone white!"_

" _Longshot, shoot him!"_

" _Trust me. That would be a very bad idea."_

" _Finally. Someone who talks sense."_

They had been friendly enough once they were up to speed, and even deigned to tell me why they were here. Apparently, one of their troupe- she called herself 'Smellerbee', which confused me on many, many levels- had family out here. Family amongst the rebels was a rarity so extreme it was barely even a factor-if you were a rebel, and you were under twenty, you were an orphan. No question. But apparently she was the exception, and she had a large family out here.

The Fire Nation were planning a raid on this village. Someone had been attacking the tax collectors, and the local governor wasn't particular about who got punished.

And this eclectic bunch knew about it. That wasn't surprising- we had informants up and down the country whose job was to give information like that to people who would and could do something about it.

I supposed I could lend a hand. I was heading down this road anyway.

So it was that I was sitting in this tiny house, watching the village outside. Waiting for the opening.

The young earthbender was Smellerbee's (she couldn't have come up with the name herself. It's strategically designed to _sound_ horribly insulting, but calculated to not actually give offence in itself. No one would take on a name that mathematical willingly) elder brother. He looks a little thin to be a good earthbender. He looks a little thin overall, actually.

They all do. Well, that's taxes for you. I've never liked them.

They're wary of me. It must be the suit.

_The plan was simple. I would steal a Fire Nation uniform, sneak past the blockade, and warn everyone in the village ahead of time._

_I liked it. Unfortunately, we had to tweak it. It turned out that what Jet thought was an officer's uniform was... not an officer's uniform. Not an officer's uniform at all._

_The captain blinked at me._

" _And you are?"_

" _Inspector. Don't mind me, just a routine check up."_

_The panic I could see in his eyes was enough to cover up the fact that these robes stop a little too close to the knee for my liking. The glasses help, though, and the bundle of scrolls are a perfect mask for my sword._

" _Oh! I'm so sorry, sir, I didn't realise,"_

" _Quite alright," I sneered, "carry on." Soldiers have several preconceptions about bureaucrats. I was happy to pander to them. "I won't get in the way."_

" _I will instruct the men not to bother you, sir."_

" _Oh, don't go to the trouble, Captain," I condescended. "You are obviously quite busy, setting up your..."_

" _Trap, sir. We're getting ready to head into that village." He pointed through the trees before the line of soldiers. "Bandits."_

" _Fascinating," I drawled. "Well, if you will excuse me..."_

_I pottered about for a while, secure in the knowledge that no one would challenge me. Then I slipped in among the komodo-rhinos and took off towards the village at a run._

_It was nice to be back in a topknot again._

The family had taken a few valuable seconds to trust me, but spread the word as quietly as they could. Within minutes, everyone who was capable of fighting back was armed. And I was leading them.

I had split them into groups- everyone who looked competent was given command of five people who were willing to fight- and positioned them around town. There were earthbenders, but they were woefully untrained. The only one who even stood like an earthbender was a long haired, slender youth. He had seemed very eager to get himself killed, over the protests of his mother.

The civilians were in cellars around town.

And there's no time to recap any more because here they come.

–

The komodo-rhinos go first. Always, the komodo-rhinos go first. That's just how these things are done.

They're impressive beasts, it's true, and very intimidating, but even though Earth Kingdom towns tend to be better laid out than most (the nice thing about earthbending is, if you don't like your house, you can just move it) with more straight lines to charge down, they're a phenomenally stupid unit to send against prepared earthbenders. No good charging down your nice straight road when your nice straight road suddenly becomes a nice flat wall.

I have to remind myself that the Fire Nation don't know that the village knows they're coming.

The riders know it, though. They're thundering through the village, but the three we can see are looking confused, about to slow.

"Now."

Smellerbee's (I mean, does she wear it out of a perverse sense of pride? Playing the 'if I accept it, it's not a joke any more, so it can't hurt' card? That doesn't work, I'm afraid) brother took a deep breath, and jerked his fist upward.

The result was less than I had hoped for, and exactly what I expected. The wall was less than two feet high, and about three feet wide. It was a shelf.

It tripped up all three komodo-rhinos.

Have you ever seen a komodo-rhino trip up? No? Try to imagine it. Just take a moment.

Complicated, isn't it? Now imagine three in a row, tripping at once, and throw in three riders. Now everything is happening in a street barely wide enough to accommodate all three at the best of times, and the picture is almost art.

I wish I had a better view.

"Now."

We explode from the house, leaping from doors and windows, the breeze in our hair (but mine resists, back in the style it should be) as we enter the fray.

They listened to me, and they ignore the three riders. They aren't going anywhere for a while, even if they are still alive under all that.

We move, undisciplined, untrained, but our hearts are in it, through the streets. My soldiers know the town, know very corner, every shadow. Hell, they probably played at soldiers here, ducking and weaving and checking their corners while their mothers did the shopping. They own these streets, and the streets own them.

The few riders who were intelligent enough to see the ambush coming started fires in a standard intimidation attempt, a little psychological warfare. It seemed to be working too. The villagers certainly looked very intimidated as they pulled the riders from their mounts and systematically butchered them.

What one has to bear in mind here is that there is no one in the Earth Kingdom over the age of twenty that can be called a civilian. No one at all. It isn't something the Fire Nation thought of- their farmers are farmers, and nothing else. Farmers here are all people who have had to fight for their lives in one form or another, and I'm not talking a colourful metaphor for a bad harvest. They're all people who dodged the lunge of the spear, and since they're alive that means they gave better than they got. A community made up of such men and women is not going to roll over and pay taxes to the enemy for such a trivial reason as 'the Earth Kingdom has been conquered', because it _hasn't_. The battlefield just got a little less well-defined.

I killed a komodo-rhino. The beast was thrashing in a wild rage, and was in danger of seriously injuring someone. So far that's all I've had to do.

I don't know who screams it first, but from a street over we hear someone yell "they're coming!" and we know what to do.

"Now."

We scatter, each to his own patch of shade, and await the infantry.

I climb onto a roof, for a better view.

It's a toss-up. A bright captain would be sending in the firebenders. Standard practice would be to send in the grunts- those born without the talent, and so worthless in the eyes of the Fire Lord, and handed a spear and told to die for their country- to soften things up.

Their captain did not strike me as a very bright man.

Please let him be a bright man. Please.

There's nothing from the woods for far too long to be time playing tricks on me.

Then a flash of red breaks into the open, screaming and charging. He doesn't appear to be armed, so he might be a firebender.

He gets four steps before an arrow strikes him dead.

"Now."

If it was the infantry, the Freedom Fighters are going to need help. If it's not, then it's time for stage three. Either way, we're going in.

The charge is glorious and wild. No coherence at all, everyone just running as fast as they can, adrenaline rushing.

It's moments like these that keep me going.

I hit the woods with Smellerbee's (am I just hopelessly out of touch with slang?) brother and the long-haired teenager at my back. It's quite the battlefield. Bodies half-hidden in the bracken, the firebenders (and it is firebenders, thank you captain, you're a bright man) keeping their eyes trained upwards, and suddenly I see why, Jet hurtling downwards, arrows as his wingmen, every inch the dashing thug-

It's hardly fair. I kill three men, but take no pride in it. Two weren't even looking my way. The youth takes one, and Smellerbee's (maybe- no. I'm not going to keep guessing. It's distracting) brother gets another.

The rest have retreated to a dried up riverbed.

Nice try.

Cleanup takes two minutes. Jet and company return to the treetops, and everyone regroups on me.

"Now."

And off we go again.

–

There seem to be fewer spear men than I remember. It's probably just lack of attention, but I'd like to think they got wise and found somewhere quiet to smoke for the next half an hour. Far away.

It's what I'd _like_ to think, not what I actually think. Oh well.

The fight is confused and bloody. More than one villager goes down to the spears.

Jet fights well, but is altogether too showy for his own good.

I wrenched him backwards by the scruff of his neck, out of the way of a wayward spear, and killed the man.

He looked at me, embarrassed.

"You're good," I told him, "but this is not a dance."

The fight raged on.

–

The fight was over. We were back in the village. We'd lost people, of course, but fewer than I had feared. The brother and the long-haired youth had survived, and were making themselves very conspicuous. The second was wandering around in a kind of grinning daze, looking at the world like it was shiny and new and I could hear the adrenaline gurgling away from his brain.

The first was arguing with his sister. Loudly.

I tuned it out. It was loud, but it was personal, full of blame and missing and hurt and the big questions and _I left because we had to fight_ and _you ran away because you wanted an adventure_ and I was moving on today anyway so I shouldn't care.

I talked to Jet instead.

Jet is not a creature at home in civilisation. You can see it in the way he twitches when he sees rooftops and alleyways. Jeong-Jeong is like that.

No one could stay here. They had to take what they could, and leave. I directed them to a fortress in the mountains that would be happy to take them. I had told Jet to take his group and join them. Jet didn't like the idea, too in love with the romantic image of the roving rebel warband.  I tried to persuade him otherwise.  We could use this boy, and his team, but only as long as he can be persuaded to join in.

"At the end of the day, we're all just one man. Or woman. There's only so much you can do on your own- your friend sees that."

"That's why we're a team," Jet replies, stubbornly.

I shrug.

"Scale up."

Perhaps I should be worried about the sudden glint in his eyes.

If I was, I moved on anyway.

–

Zuko frowned.

"Azula, that's a terrible thing to say. Why would you even think like that?"

Azula shrugged. "I'm just saying, when the Avatar is captured, clearly _something_ will have to be done to contain him. If he's learned earthbending before he is captured, there's not a cell that will hold him for long."

"But still-"

"Oh, it's hardly pleasant to contemplate, I appreciate that, but sometimes you just have to wake up and accept the facts."

They'd been having this conversation on and off for weeks now. The Avatar had dominated the news. No one knew too much, even now, but it was obvious to everyone that his arrival at the North Pole and the subsequent defeat of the Blockade were linked.

So Zuko had talked about it. To Azula, since there was no one else around. Azula indulgently listened, and set him straight on a few points.

"Azula, he's a kid. It's..."

"It's what? Dishonourable? Do you think the Avatar cares about honour? And he's not exactly acting like a child, is he, Zuko? You think we should indulge his massacres because of his youth?"

Zuko shook his head. "You might have a point, Azula, in fact you _do_ have a point, but it _is_ dishonourable, and I don't like it, and I can't think like that."

Azula shrugged. "Then it is a good thing I am here, isn't it?"

Zuko half-smiled. "I guess."

Progress.

–

It was late one evening, and Azula was about to retire for the first time that night. She would toss and turn for a few hours, then get up again and walk until she was exhausted, then retire again.

Everyone needs a routine.

She was sitting in the library, reading a dull book about the early Fire Lords, when Father entered.

He was full of a strange energy, incapable of standing still. A flame danced in his eyes, one Azula had never seen before.

Azula stood quickly, and nodded.

"Father."

"Ah! Azula, are you well?" he inquired. His voice was collected, as ever, but not as collected as ever.

"Yes, thank you, Father," she replied. "And yourself?"

"Ha. I will admit to having felt better, but I cannot complain."

Azula tried a smile. Ozai nodded, sharply.

"You should rest. You never know when things may start to happen, so it is best to be prepared."

Azula nodded, understanding fully.

"I understand, Father."

"Good. Good."

He looked nervous. That was it. He was looking right and left, worried.

"Are you alright, Father?" It was an act of intolerable familiarity, but Azula thought she could get away with it.

"Azula... I may be away for a few days. I have things I have to do."

"Oh."

That was all she could come up with.

She tried again. "Is... there a problem?"

He sighed. "Nothing that you need concern yourself with." He started to move away. Azula thought she should do something.

She had no idea what, though.

"Azula." The exclamation was unexpected and sharp, as if he was interrupting some internal monologue. Perhaps he was.

"Yes, Father?"

"Take care of your mother while I am gone. Your brother, too."

Azula was starting to get worried.

"Of course, Father."

"Thank you," he replied, and it almost looked as if a weight had been alleviated, slightly. Azula was definitely worried now.

He looked as if he was going to say something more, but it was obvious that he wasn't quite sure what.

Azula didn't expect a hug, though. It was awkward, and paradoxically clinical, but it was a hug nonetheless.

She barely remembered to hug back before it was over.

"Be good," he instructed, and then he was gone, slipped out the doorway.

–

Azula stood in silence for a full minute before trying to put the whole conversation out of her mind, and went back to reading.

–

Ten minutes later, the Fire Lord burst into the library.

"Where is he, Azula?" he asked, in a low voice.

Azula peered over the top of her book.

"Whoever do you mean, Uncle?"

Iroh grit his teeth.

"I am in no mood to indulge your games tonight, child," he warned. "Where is your father?"

Azula looked left, looked right.

"Not here. I am sorry."

"Azula, you do not know what you do. Where. Is. Ozai." With every word, Iroh seemed to grow larger, and definitely grew angrier. "He was here not ten minutes ago. Where is he?"

"I do not know what you expect of me, Uncle. He was here, and then he left. He didn't say where he was going, but I suggest you ensure that he has not simply retired for the night."

Iroh's fist deliberately curled. He looked like he was about to say something, but instead he abruptly ran from the room.

Azula blinked.

Something very odd was going on.  Perhaps she should investigate.

No.  Father had given his instructions.  She would follow them, and trust that he had the situation in hand.

After a while, she resumed her reading.


	10. Long Live the King

_Or,_

_ Not Single Spies, But in Battalions. _

–

Azula woke late the next morning. A deplorable habit, but one she was having trouble resisting.

She had spent some time musing on the meaning behind the events of last night, and had arrived at what she believed was a satisfactory theory. Father, who had clearly grasped the fact that he would make a far superior Fire Lord- an opinion Azula had held for some time now- was in fact preparing to make this a reality, and was planning to leverage the recent defeat in the North as an excuse to challenge his brother to an Agni-Kai. However, his deceitful brother had got wind of this, and since there was no legal way he could prevent the challenge being issued, he sought to eliminate his brother before he could be deposed. Father, being of course aware of this, was simply retreating, to prepare for the duel in safety. And he had entrusted her to hold the fort here.

Azula couldn't repress a small smile. Finally, things were starting to go her way.

–

Her good humour didn't last long.

Some people, like one of the absent friends she hardly thought about at all, claimed that if enough people were in a particular mood in the same building, then it would hover around in the air and pass itself on, like some kind of disease, or something. Azula would readily confess that she had never listened to such people, and as such might have gotten a couple of the fine details of their insane fantasies wrong.

So she ignored the creeping feeling along the back of her spine, writing it off as a result of sleeping for too long.

–

"Where _is_ everyone?"

To her disgust, it had transpired that she had woken up well after noon. It was now late afternoon.

She had not seen another person in all that time. Oh, there had been the occasional servant, unobtrusively scurrying away, but no one she could talk to.

Disquieting.

–

She was starting to get concerned. And angry.

Once she started to look, she was _certain_ the servants were avoiding her. In fact, more than one had outright fled. Why?

Certainly, she had never particularly endeared herself to any of them- they were _servants_ , for crying out loud- but they had a duty to, well, serve. And she was certain she would have remembered any instructions she had issued that could be interpreted as 'avoid me as much as you possibly can.'

So the only possibility that remained was that someone else had issued such an order.

Uncle?

Unlikely. She couldn't see the point.

Zuko.

Yes, it must be Zuko.

She was going to find him- wherever he was hiding- and make him stop this nonsense.

–

She found him in his room.

He was sitting on his bed, staring at the wall.

If Azula had been in the mood to notice fine details, she might have done things rather differently. She wasn't, and she didn't, so she didn't.

"Zuko, what in the name of Agni and all his servants is _happening_ around here?"

He turned, slowly, mechanically, towards her and she saw his eyes were raw.

"Zuko, what on-"

He slammed into her, knocking the wind clean out of her, and locked his arms behind her back. She struggled, but it was no use.

He started shaking. It took Azula valuable seconds to realise he was crying.

"Zuko. What. Is. Happening?"

He told her.

His answer tore the world into shreds.

–

Time had passed, like sand through a clenched fist. The sun was setting.

Azula did not cry.

The timid creature, lost and alone, huddled on her bed, eyes clenched shut, was not Azula. Azula was strong, self assured, in control. Azula was a poised and balanced figure, and her head ruled her heart. Azula did not bend, did not break. Azula did not cry.

The girl, her jaw forced into a silent sob, clutching at her forehead as if to plunge her fingers into her brain and tear out the hurt, was not Azula.

She was not the wretched thing, howling in the dark like a dragon in a trap. How could she be? After all, she was Azula, and Azula was strong, self-assured, brilliant. She never let her emotions rule her. She was untouchable, and she was everything her father wished for in a daughter.

She was Azula.

But she cried anyway.

–

Night had fallen.

Azula was drifting, lost on a sea of exhaustion. She had long since lost track of what time it was.

She was feeling... calm. Like she was floating, somehow. And although she knew in the back of her mind that the storm clouds were circling her, she ignored them, and focused on the immediacies. It helped.

She was dehydrated.

Perhaps she would ring the bell, and summon a servant to get her some water.

Or she could go and get some herself.

That sounded novel.

–

The palace kitchens.

She was not sure she had ever been here before.

Her new surroundings kept her occupied. It was oddly dingy, when compared to the rest of the palace.

She spent ten minutes finding a cup, and another twelve trying to figure out which of the enormous barrels was the water butt. None of them were labelled in any way she could recognise, and she was unwilling to take a chance.

"Azula!"

She was swinging before she knew it, her fist clenched and arm pumping entirely on reflex, the storm clouds crashing down as blind formless _rage_

She stopped herself just in time.

"Mother."

She had been crying, that much was obvious. But she still held herself tall. Her composure was cracked and crumbling, but it had been propped up again.

This was lost on Azula. Her mother had not been a factor in anything for a long time. She was out of practice, could no longer read her as well as she aught.

"So, Azula, what are you doing up?" Mother asked.

Azula lifted her cup, before realising that was hardly an adequate response.

"I was getting some water," she explained. She was startled by how much her voice croaked.

"Oh. I see. Well, that sounds like a good idea. Perhaps I shall have one." Mother busied herself with finding the cups.

Azula turned back around, and didn't respond until she heard the sound of shattered glass.

Azula had expected crying. She hadn't expected Mother to give a strangled cry of anger, pick up the stool she had bumped in to, and violently smash it to pieces on the floor.

"Mother-"

"Azula. Forgive me, I am... not myself," she said, visibly winding down.

Azula couldn't help but nod.

"I- I understand, Mother."

And with those words, Ursa sagged, closing her eyes softly as she slumped against the counter.

She looked utterly, completely defeated.

 _Protect your mother while I am gone. Your brother, too_.

This looked like a good place to start.

…

Azula paused for a few moments, then picked up the largest fragments of broken glass off the floor and placed them on the counter. Not much, but it was the best she could think of at the moment.

"Azula? What are you doing? Are you... _tidying_?"

"Is there something wrong with that, Mother?"

Ursa had a faint smile on her face.

"You haven't tidied up after anyone since you were six years old."

Ugh.

"Thank you, Mother. I shall bear that in mind."

"Oh, Azula," Mother said, before standing up.

Another hug, this one desperate, and possessive. Azula found herself clutching back, out of some desperate fear she couldn't define.

"I love you, Azula. Never forget that."

Azula didn't know quite what to say. So she stayed quiet.

It was easier than thinking, anyway.

Suddenly, there was an indistinct noise from outside the kitchen. Ursa whirled, snatching up a kitchen knife, and brandishing it inexpertly but earnestly at the door.

The shuffling of footsteps moved on. But it had been enough to force Ursa to a decision.

Azula was surprised by the sudden change in her Mother. Ursa stood straighter, and her eyes held the spark of purpose.

"Azula, pack whatever you can't part with. I'll get your brother. We are leaving. Now."

–

This was insane. Truly and utterly insane.

Except... it wasn't at all. They weren't safe here.

Azula grabbed a bag and hurled a few sets of clothes into it.

If she had been given a few hours more, she might have begun to process what had happened. Perhaps then she would have been harder to persuade that retreat was the best choice. But she was off-balance.

She changed quickly, into plainer clothes.

The palace wasn't home any more- it had been stained black. She had to keep what remained of her family safe. She had made a promise, and she would keep it, not matter the cost. Those were the thoughts rattling disjointedly through her brain as she packed.

She pulled the headpiece out of her hair, letting it flow free.

She looked at the ornament for a long while.

It had been a present from Father, last year.

She blinked hard, and violently threw the headpiece into her bag, before slinging it over her shoulder and slipping out the door.

–

There wasn't any talking as they left the palace, through the tradesman's entrance. All of them avoided eye contact with each other. None of them wanted to think they were doing this alone, but none of them wanted to see who was missing.

Azula reckoned it to be about three in the morning.

There were guards, but not many, in the palace grounds, and they were easy enough to avoid. Until they got to one of the outer gates.

Two men were stationed there at all times.

Certainly, they could simply walk out- after all, they were not prisoners (yet, at any rate). But they would remember. Nor could they simply attack the guards. Stealth was out of the question, and they were fast running out of time to go and find another route.

This could prove problematic.

She was just about to suggest they try another route- anything to get out of this shadow the three were lurking in- when there was the low rumble of a sliding door being pulled back, and a figure stepped out into the night.

They held their breath as the figure- fairly tall, well built, stout- walked purposefully over to the gate that was their exit.

"State your business," one of the guards challenged, disinterestedly. "Oh, it's you, Lee. Well, I guess I can-"

Azula was surprised when the man responded by hitting the guard over the head with some kind of weapon.

"What the-"

The servant appeared to be wielding a stick of some kind, perhaps two feet long. He certainly knew that he was doing- his first blow stunned the guard, and while the second hurried up to restrain him, he caught him in a swing that, even from her vantage point several metres away, Azula could see had loosened teeth.

The fight was surprisingly one-sided. It appeared that neither of the guards were really prepared to use lethal force on a man who was known to at least one of them, and the man knew it. By the time either of them was in a position to seriously firebend, the fight was over.

The man stood still for a while, rolling his shoulder.

"My Lady, you can come out now."

Azula, Ursa and Zuko all exchanged confused glances. With a shrug, Ursa stepped out of the shadows. Her children followed.

Azula, now she had a better look at the man, thought she might have recognised him as someone's under-butler. He was carrying a poker, now severely bent out of shape.

"Who are you?" Zuko demanded.

"My name is Fat, young Master. I understand you are in need of transportation. I took the liberty of preparing a carriage, and parking it outside, should you wish to make use of it."

"Why should we trust you?" Zuko asked.

"Why, no reason at all." He seemed to pause. "No, actually that is incorrect. There are several good reasons why you should trust me, but none of them can be related in the detail they deserve here and now. I suggest we retire to the carriage, and I shall explain everything once we are clear of the city."

Ursa looked up.

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"Very well, Fat. And thank you."

The man shook his head sadly.

"You may wish to reserve thanks, my Lady. At least until everything has been explained."

Azula was too tired to make sense of this man and his cryptic statements. She was too tired to protest that they were putting their lives in the hands of a man whose only interaction with them had been on the serving end of a cool drink, and she was too tired to do anything but follow.

The carriage was nice, but not nice enough to draw attention. Two ostrich-horses pulled it, and Fat climbed heavily into the driver's seat. Azula was first into the carriage, checking it for threats.

Once she had determined that there were no assassins hiding under the seat cushions, she collapsed onto the seat and let the darkness claim her.


	11. End of an Era

_Or,_

_ The Man of Constant Sorrow. _

_\--  
_

Azula woke suddenly, and in great discomfort. The seat, which had seemed comfortable enough when she had fallen asleep, had at some point in the night transformed into some exotic torture device, designed to twist the spine into shapes no spine should really be in.

Zuko, showing uncharacteristic forethought, had chosen to sleep on the floor. Azula nearly stepped on him as she made her way outside.

The sun was rising. Azula briefly marvelled that she was up.

She looked around, trying to see if there were any landmarks. There was the extinct volcano that housed the capital.

It looked closer than she would like.

The sun glinted over the lip of the mountain, and Azula squinted and looked away. Closer at hand, the terrain was nothing but grassland on either side of the road. Flocks of koala-sheep grazed in the middle distance.

It was utterly, utterly quiet. Azula found herself shuddering from it.

"Ah, Princess. Would you care for breakfast?" a mournful voice asked.

She almost jumped.

It was that butler. He had stepped out from behind the carriage, firewood in hand.

He had said something.

Yes. Breakfast.

"Certainly."

Azula was beginning to notice things about this man. Such as the fact that everything he said was forced from between his teeth, as if it physically pained him to have to speak at all. And he constantly looked as if the world had fallen apart around him.

"What would the Princess like?"

Azula thought for a moment.

"Oolong tea and thousand-layer sweet cake," she replied, before remembering that she was no longer at the palace, and no longer had access to the palace's larders.

"Of course, Princess," he replied, however, and simply bowed. "Will that be all?"

Azula shrugged, internally.

"Yes."

The butler bowed again, and walked back towards the carriage.

–-

Against all expectations, the man had actually managed to produce Azula's request, and a pot of tea was boiling by the time Zuko crawled out into the day.

He looked like hell. His hair was dishevelled, and was escaping its ponytail, and there were bags under his eyes.

"Morning, Azula," he mumbled, as the butler presented him with a cup of tea.

"Good morning, Zuko," she replied, distractedly.

There were no more words exchanged between them until Mother awoke. Zuko and Ursa were presented with breakfast, and all three ate in silence, seemingly intent upon their food.

The food was surprisingly good, Azula found. But there wasn't enough of it, because all too quickly they found themselves with no reason to put off the conversation.

"Fat," Ursa said, sternly. "You said you would explain."

"That is true, my Lady, and I shall." He stood slightly straighter, and clasped his hands behind his back, as though he were giving a briefing. "If you will forgive me, I shall make no assumptions as to how much any of you were told, and simply start from the beginning."

He sucked at his teeth, and looked upwards, towards the horizon. After a moment, it looked like he had come to a decision.

"There is an... organisation, one might call it, dedicated to, and I quote, 'the pursuit and preservation of enlightenment'."  He at least had the decency to sound disdainful as he said it, although everything he had said so far had been said with varying degrees of disdain.  "That was the initial charter, in any case. A group of men and women who dedicated their lives to erudition. As the generations passed, and their ranks and power grew, they saw themselves in a new light- they began to concern themselves with helping their fellow man, since someone brought up the fact that enlightenment is no good if you then do nothing.

"In recent years, this organisation had become …concerned with the actions of Fire Lord Iroh. Ever since the massacres at Ba Sing Se, it has been universally acknowledged that he is not the man who would heal the world, as more than a few had hoped. So a plan was formed, to depose him, and name Ozai Fire Lord. I was the one who made first contact with Ozai, and he agreed to meet with my Master. Between them, they finalised the details of the plan."

Fat sighed, ever so slightly.

"But we were betrayed. One of the organisation sent the Fire Lord a message, telling him that he could deliver to him traitors, enemies in his court, in return for a reward of some kind. Riches, prestige, something of the sort. Iroh agreed."

In Azula's mind, a figure sat beneath a cherry tree, a fire in his palm.

"Two days ago, the traitor contacted Ozai, telling him that he was needed, that he was in danger, and needed to go into hiding. An address of a safe house was provided to him."

A tall figure, slipping out the library door.

"Ozai came, and was met with a few members of the court, all connected with us in one way or another. And the Fire Lord's soldiers attacked. I understand that Iroh had instructed them that there was to be no quarter offered."

Ursa stared into the fire.

"I see." She looked up, sharply. "This traitor, do you have him?"

Fat nodded, as if the question were nothing out of the ordinary. "Yes, my Lady. He is a scribe, in-"

"I do not care. I do not want to know who he is, or what he does." Ursa's nostrils flared as she exhaled. "I want him dead." Her voice was like ice. "Can you do this?"

Fat paused, his face utterly blank, for a fraction of a second, a halt so minuscule Azula had half convinced herself she had imagined it by the time he started speaking again.

"Of course, my Lady." He spoke in the disaffected tone of voice he had used to offer breakfast.

–-

Ozai is dead.

Oh hell.

Oh _hell_.

–-

Presently, they got moving. Mother was riding up in front, against the very disapproving looks of Fat. Or maybe not. Azula was getting the feeling that his face was just stuck somewhere between disapproving and utterly depressed.

It was getting stuffy and warm in the carriage, and Azula was beginning to understand why Mother was out in the air. A non-firebender would find the air actively unpleasant.

"So."

Zuko's voice broke the silence. It was the first anyone had spoken since the wheels had started turning.

"What do we do now?" Azula suggested.

"Yeah."

"I think-"

They shouldn't trust this butler. After all, all they had was his word on any of this. He could be working with the traitor. Perhaps he _was_ the traitor. Perhaps there was no organisation of which he had spoken. Perhaps he was working with Iroh.

Perhaps Father was not dead after all.

That last thought was a fantasy too far, and Azula's momentary hopes vanished like dew in the morning.

"I don't know. I just don't know."

Hard to admit, but she was long past caring.

"We'll think of something," Zuko attempted to reassure. "We just need... need a little time to think, that's all."

"Perhaps."

Azula tried to bring herself to care. The energy was not forthcoming.

She couldn't even summon the will to sit upright.

Zuko slumped, putting his head into his hands, and stared at the carriage floor. "Azula. I don't understand what's going on any more, I hate what I do understand, and if it were up to me I'd hide in my room and never come out right now and I know you feel the same. But we _can't._ We don't have the time, or the space, and I need you with me, Azula. You're smarter than me, we both know that, and I need you here, now." He looked almost ashamed to admit it.

But he was right, damn him.

"You're right."

"I wish I wasn't."

–-

The letter arrived this morning. About ten more have followed it.

The first that followed pinned the blame on a routine police action gone wrong. A tragic accident.

The next blamed a man within our own circle.

So did the next one. But it was a different man.

I tried to follow, but it was no use. The information is old, stale, and besides, what am I to do about any of it?

And no one involved is above suspicion any more.

Well, there is one man who I believe I can trust. Who I _can_ trust, because if I can't trust him there was no hope for the plan from the beginning.

Not that there's any hope for the plan now.

I looked up, as a messenger-hawk tapped at the window.

–-

Azula was taking her turn sitting up front.

She would admit, the breeze was pleasant. And she was seeing more of the Fire Nation than she ever thought she would.

But Zuko _had_ been right. She needed to think, for everyone. At least until Iroh was dead.

That was a goal, one easy to visualise. Iroh dead, Zuko and Ursa safe. Then Father would have been avenged.

"So, Fat," she said. "Where are we?"

"We are south-west of the capital, my princess. Somewhat less than a day's ride, I am afraid. The roads out here are in poor repair, and I do not dare take any of the major ones."

Azula nodded.

"I see. And where are we going?"

"With your permission, and with that of your brother and the Lady Ursa, I am planning on taking you away from the Fire Nation."

What. No.

"No."

Fat hardly reacted.

"It is not my place to say, Princess, but the Fire Nation is not safe for you at present. We do not know who may be coming after you, or what intent they may have. For now, the Earth Kingdom is the safest place for you."

After a few moments in which Azula did not react, he sighed, as if the world were asking things of him once again, and really he had just sat down for the third time and couldn't the world solve its own problems once in a while?

"Call it a …tactical withdrawal. Once things have calmed down, and the situation in the capital is once more comprehensible, then I am sure you will be free to return."

A tactical withdrawal. A period to train, gather information. Yes, that was acceptable.

"Very well."

"Thank you, Princess."

–-

I read the letter.

Slowly, like the dawn breaking through heavy fog, we had a plan once again. A glimmer of purpose.

I had to pack.

 _Master_ ,

_You have no doubt heard about the bad business here. I have taken matters into my own hands, somewhat. I hope that you can forgive the indiscretion._

I paid at the bar, hefted my bag onto the back of my eelhound, and turned him towards the smell of the sea.

_I have been forced to abandon my position at the palace, and have with me in tow the Lady Ursa, Princess Azula, and suddenly-Crown Prince Zuko. We are headed towards the usual port of call._

I rode for hours, as fast as I could, and nearly wore my beast out. But it was worth it, and by dusk I had pulled in to a tiny port village.

There was one ship in the dock, looming over the town like an overly friendly drunk stranger, and the town was trying to figure out exactly when the ship would turn violent and demand money. Or yell some incomprehensible and angry question and expect a response.

_Based upon your last published location, I have taken the liberty of making arrangements, and if all goes well, I shall see you within the week. Should you choose to be at Ho Sang village by sundown on the third of this month, of course._

Renting space at the stable for my eelhound, I rushed to the dock. The sun was nearly down.

_Your faithful servant,_

_Fat._

The man on the gangplank opened his arms wide, and grinned, showing off gold.

"Piandao, lad. How's life?"

I nodded, breathlessly, and grinned in return.

"Captain."

Fat, you magnificent bastard. I am forever in your debt.


	12. The Dragon's Doorstep

_Or,_

_Subway's No Way for a Good Man to Go Down._

–

The road was straight as an arrow, a dark line bisecting fields turned to silver by the moonlight.

They had come this way, I was sure of it.

I could have gone straight to the town, and met them when they arrived. It would have been faster, and safer.

Now I'm very glad I didn't. Because I have discovered something I should have known already.

The Fire Lord has sent out his agents.

They're being hunted.

–

Azula had never thought much about such things- having been blessed with an imagination that, while not conventionally stunted, was certainly rigorously controlled and channelled within the walls of probability (and was as such actually useful, as opposed to an idle distraction)- but if she had, she might have been tempted to imagine a life-or-death escape, trusting no one, with defeat only a single misstep away, as, well, exciting.

It wasn't. It was... quiet. Hour upon hour of sitting in the carriage, confined to that tiny box- it gave her a headache.

And she wasn't allowed outside during the day- none of them were, for obvious reasons. Time had passed, and they were heading back towards inhabited areas.

It was very uncomfortable.

They had been on the road for two days now. Azula would have killed for a distraction. But there was nothing, and all any of them did was sit in silence and avoid each others' eyes.

Sleep continued to elude her. She hardly expected anything else at this point.

–

I was, by my reckoning, at least two days behind them.

Unacceptable.

But I knew where they were headed, and I knew the country. And I was faster.

I spurred my komodo-rhino, turning it aside from the beaten path. Time to head off-road.

–

Night had fallen. Their third, if you counted their initial escape.

Azula had practically given up on sleep. Zuko was restless, moving around in his unconsciousness. It was aggravating beyond all reason.

So she had retreated outside, to stare at the stars.

She didn't like them. An idiotic thought, but she didn't like them. They glared.

"Princess, you really should rest."

Azula suppressed the urge to leap ten feet in the air. How did he keep _doing_ that?

"Later," she replied. "I am not yet tired."

"I understand, Princess. If I had access to enough ingredients, I might recommend a sleeping draught, but I am afraid that with what I can procure, I could only create the most deadly poison. I apologise deeply, Princess."

Azula was starting to find this man disconcerting. It would take a lot more than that, though, to get her to show it.

But for now, perhaps it was best to change the subject.

"Tell me, Fat," she said, feigning familiarity, "you said you would take us to meet your Master, and yet you did not tell us who your Master is."

"You are correct, Princess. Am I correct in assuming you wish to know?"

"I think that is reasonable."

Fat sighed. "His name is Piandao."

Azula's eyes flicked to the man for the first time in the conversation. She knew that name. Heard it mentioned in the same breath as Jeong-Jeong.

This was not something she wanted to be hearing.

"The traitor."

"...Perhaps you could call him that."

"He is an enemy of the Fire Nation. He fled the army, and sided with our enemies. It is hardly difficult to make a case for his treachery." _Not_ the sort of man they should be getting involved with.

Perhaps it was a failure to accept the facts, perhaps it was some Zukoesque stubbornness, but Azula would not accept that throwing their lot in with the enemies of the Fire Nation was the right thing to do. There had to be other options.

Fat displayed emotion for the first time. A subtle tightening around the jawline.

"That is certainly one way of explaining his actions, Princess. There is another, but I hesitate to bring it up."

"Oh? And why would you do that?"

"Because I fear you will not want to hear it."

Azula flared.

"I think I would be the better judge of that, don't you?"

"...As you wish, Princess." He straightened again, somehow managing to improve on a ramrod posture, and spoke as if giving a speech.

"I asked him, once, shortly after I came into his employ, why he had felt compelled to leave the army. He told me he no longer wanted to die for something that didn't mean anything to him."

"If you mean to convince me he is not a traitor, you are going the wrong way about it."

"I am simply stating what he told me, Princess. I would not presume to try to convince you of anything. But with your permission, I would explain what he meant."

"Very well. Continue."

Fat paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts.

"It is an uncomfortable truth that the Fire Nation has committed some of the most monstrous atrocities in modern history. That is not a matter of opinion, no matter how much one may wish it were. No matter how honourable your Royal Ancestor's intentions may have been, the fact remains that any measure of his intent has long since been eroded. My Master saw that, and that is why my Master left the army, Princess, but it is not why he joined with the Earth Kingdom."

"So tell me," Azula demanded, with a side of ice. "What _did_ make him join our enemies?"

Fat _shuddered_ , as though he was fighting an overwhelming urge to pinch the bridge of his nose and close his eyes. Possibly even mutter some muted semi-obscenity.

"Princess, I realise it is hardly proper for me to say so, but you are no longer counted alongside the allies of the Fire Lord. You, your Royal Brother, and the Lady Ursa are now in the same position that my Master was, upon returning to the Fire Nation some three years ago. _He_ decided that the only thing he could do to save his country was to fight his Lord, and that was not a battle even he could win alone. If you will permit me, Princess, it seems that the question now is what _you_ will do."

Azula delicately raised an eyebrow.

"But you are taking us to meet Master Piandao. You were the only one to suggest that."

"Only because he can help you. I assure you, though I no longer have any loyalty towards the Fire Lord, the same cannot be said for his family. If you wish to go elsewhere, I am entirely at your command."

But there was the thing. There was nowhere else to go.

"Very well. We shall continue on course, and hear what your Master has to say."

"Very good, Princess."

"And now I believe I shall retire."

"Very good, Princess."

–

I am so tired it quite possibly defies analysis.

Twenty-four hours in the saddle, a feat quite impossible if I were riding anything other than a komodo-rhino.

I think I may be dying.

But I've passed them.

I should have, anyway. By my calculations. Which could well be off by now.

As soon as everyone is safely at sea, I am going to sleep for the entire trip.

_Nothing is going to stop me._

–

Azula lay on the seat, trying to ignore her brother's intolerably loud breathing.

She was having a little difficulty reconciling the path of her life with what she believed to be the correct way.

She would _not_ become some simpering vassal of an exiled Earth King. There had to be another way, for all of them. She just couldn't see it yet.

Play along. Make no objections, if she could stand it. But they would have to stay together at all times. Zuko could look after himself- she had made sure of that, at least, so _some_ good had come from her actions after all- and between the two of them it should be possible to make sure Mother was safe. Give the Earth King and his allies no pressing reason to doubt them. Steer their plans as much as possible.

And then, when Iroh is dead...

Zuko will be the Fire Lord.

That will be enough, perhaps.

Is that what Father would have wanted?

The question wouldn't leave. It was like a shadow, clinging to the edges of her mind, twisting and coiling, choking out anything else she tried to focus on, stamping out even the river of fire that was all that kept her moving any more. The question was the one thing she could not control, the one factor that she couldn't predict.

What _would_ Father have wanted? What had he planned?

She didn't know. Didn't know at all.

All she had to hold onto were his instructions.

–

Ha. Done it.

So, now I'm at the tiny little village that serves as the usual port whenever Order members have to journey to and from the Fire Nation without being seen, at least half a day ahead of Fat. Of course, the Captain is here too, anchored in the bay. I could have just stayed with the ship, of course, and gotten some sleep.

It's a good thing I didn't, because now I know who is following them.

I saw their camp, from my route over the highlands. There were two of them, a young woman, and a middle-aged man. He had a clerkish look about him, as many of the agents do. She was wholly unremarkable- the kind of unremarkability that takes years of practice. In fact, the most imposing physical detail I could make out through my spyglass was shoulder-length brown hair. Everything else about her was calculated drabness.

She is waiting outside town, monitoring the road. He is in it.

I'm hoping that we can evade both of them, but I doubt it.

This will require some very quick planning. Fortunately, I've hit my second wind, so I have a couple of hours' worth of manic energy before I start craving sleep again.

–

It was early evening when the coach pulled in to the tiny village in the bay. The night was warm, with the onset of Spring but the streets were quiet. It seemed to be the sort of place where nothing ever happened, due perhaps in part to the locals discouraging that sort of thing.

"We have arrived," Fat announced, somewhat unnecessarily, once he had parked the carriage in a seemingly abandoned barn on the edge of town. "Now, I would suggest that you wait here, and I shall return shortly."

Oh no you don't.

"I would really like to stretch my legs, actually," Azula said, pointedly. "It has been a long journey, and besides, it would be polite if we all were to meet your Master together."

Fat glanced despairingly (Azula was getting better at reading the man- it was all to do with the attitude of his eyes) at Mother.

"My Lady?"

Ursa sat in thought.

"We shall all go to meet Master Piandao."

"Of course, my Lady."

–

The bar made up for the liveliness that the rest of the village lacked, as best it could. It was hardly cultured, but it was full and smokey and loud, and that was about as high as it's aspirations went.

Fat glanced subtly around for a second, before nodding to a shadowy corner. If Azula peered, she could just make out a figure, reclining at a table.

"I shall procure drinks," Fat said, and made his way towards the bar, slipping through the crowd with a flowing grace that belied a man of his size.

Zuko shrugged, and led the way over to the corner.

The figure that stood suddenly and bowed as they arrived was not exactly what Azula had expected. He was tall, and lean, and clad in sensible-looking Earth Kingdom travelling robes. Unarmed, but Azula would have been surprised if he had been fool enough to come into town visibly armed. What threw her off, though, was the hair. It was long, and matted, as was his beard. Both were starting to grey. Overall, it looked as if some ancient beast had draped itself over his head. And then died, but not before relieving itself, if the smell was anything to go by.

"My Lady," he intoned, and Azula was instantly on edge. He had a warm, reassuring voice, scholarly without being stuffy, kind without being indulgent. It was the kind of voice that put one at ease.

Azula had no ease to be put at, and she was intelligent enough to be suspicious of anyone trying to calm her down.

"My Lady, it pains me to see you in such reduced circumstances," he continued, in a soft tone. "But rest assured, we are doing everything in our power to help you."

"Any aid you can extend to us is greatly appreciated, Master," Ursa replied, but her words had a slightly cold edge. "Am I to assume you have a plan for us?"

"With your permission, yes, but we should not discuss that here. At the least, you should catch your breath first."

It was at that point that Fat returned, with a tray. Azula found herself handed a glass of what looked like orange juice, and conversation was halted until everyone settled down again.

A bowl of ... _things_... had appeared on the table. Master Piandao beamed behind his hideous facial hair, and ate one with obvious satisfaction and a loud _crunch_.

With not a little trepidation, Zuko reached for one, and examined it.

"What are these?"

"Pork rinds. Deep fried, salted, served cold," Piandao replied.

"This one has hair on it," Zuko observed, with placid terror.

"Adds to the flavour." Piandao punctuated his observation with another _crunch_.

"That's disgusting."

Piandao shrugged. "Oh, I know it's not exactly cuisine, like lark's tongues, or swallow's nest soup, but I enjoy them."

Azula felt this was getting out of hand.

"Perhaps there are more important things to discuss than appetisers right now."

"Indeed." Piandao's face- what could be seen of it- grew stern. "Did you know you were followed?"

–

I could see it in her eyes. The Princess had come to the unpleasant realisation that every one of us has had to sooner rather than later- you are not safe in the Fire Nation. Anyone could be in Iroh's employ.

"I took what measures I could, Master, but I feared as much," Fat replied.

"You did excellently, considering the circumstances. Only one team picked up your trail, and they were foolish enough to wait until they knew where you were going to send word. I have spent the afternoon shooting messenger-hawks out of the air, so you should be safe-"

Damn. Damn damn damn.

"-Providing, of course, that the man who just walked in is not one of the spies. Which he is."

Damn.

–

Azula was almost dizzy.

It seemed that she had been _nowhere near_ paranoid enough.

"What do we do?" Mother hissed. Piandao glanced over.

"I am going to cause a distraction. There is a ship in the docks that is waiting to take us to the Earth Kingdom. Follow Fat. I will meet you there. If I don't in five minutes, well... I should be there in five minutes."

With that, he grabbed an empty bottle from the table, and stood in an unsteady rush.

–

Sometimes I hate what I do.

I stagger theatrically to my feet- an act that goes unnoticed by most of my audience, but it serves as a warmup. Gets me in character.

An unsteady stumble leads to my right hand slamming flat-palmed onto the table occupied by three old men with serious expressions, dislodging their serious drinks. A slurred apology forces its way through my teeth, and I stagger onward, my centre of balance thrown far forward. My knees knock a stool, sending it flying. People are starting to notice now, grumbling to themselves. Good. Need an audience. My foot fails to land correctly, and I stumble, but my momentum keeps me ploughing onwards, and I'm almost at him now, and he turns to look at me and I land flat on my back.

–

Well. That had been underwhelming.

"Is this the distraction?" Zuko asked, quietly.

"I... do not believe so?" Fat ventured. "Although I will admit it is not impossible."

Azula watched Piandao clamber unsteadily to his feet. You could have heard a pin drop in the silence.

"Wossa... wossa... wossat fo'? Watchugonnaroun' doin'fings like tha for, eh?" he demanded, at increasing volume and great speed.

"I- I-" the spy managed.

"Fin' you needa _lesson_. In- in _manners_ , boy."

–

And then I punched him in the face. Not hard, but hard enough.

He tumbled, falling backwards, and I could see for half an instant the glint of a palm dagger up his sleeve, but he was caught by the crowd, and pushed back to his feet, and please please please

"Hey! Take it outside!"

Oh thank you, mister Landlord. Your timing is exemplary.

I made a great show of resisting being tossed out into the street, but not enough to provoke being thrown onto my head. The bouncer looked like an uncomplicated fellow.

I recovered first, and as soon as the door to the pub had closed, I was dragging the spy upright. He looked bewildered, confused, and hurt.

I briefly closed my eyes.

"I am so, so sorry," I told him.

"What? What do you-"

I hit him in the liver as hard as I could.

It connected perfectly. It was easy to tell, because he suddenly looked like a man who has been punched in the liver. If you think this is a poor simile, then you have never seen a man punched in the liver.

I had ten to thirty seconds before he started moving again. I grabbed his hand, and pushed the empty bottle I had been holding into it. I looped his other arm around my shoulders, dislodging his palm dagger as I did so. From an outsider's perspective, I would simply appear to be supporting my drunk friend.

I began to manoeuvre him around to behind the pub.

"Hello, hello, hello. What's all this then?"

And then the Watch arrived.

"'S me nephew, officer," I said, "'S 'is birthday, and I fear he might have indulged hisself a bit too much."

"A drunk, eh?" the watchman asked, peering for a better look.

"Might not want to get too close, officer. He's eaten hugely."

He backed up. "Well, make sure he gets some water and some rest. Good evening to you, sir."

"And you, officer. I will indeed."

–

I drowned him in the water butt behind the inn.

He realised what was happening after a second or two, but his panic was muffled by the water, and only I was there to hear his screaming.

He hit me, more than once, but he was flailing blindly, wild and uncoordinated. He never stood a chance. Briefly, his movement ceased, and he hung limp.

He might be faking. I kept my grip on the back of his head, and counted to three hundred.

He was dead.

I pulled him up, and arranged his body, so it looked as if he had fallen asleep in the alley. As an afterthought, I took off my fake wig and beard, and put them on him. It was disrespectful, but it was sensible. I have always been too sensible.

I said a short prayer, and left him behind to his rest, returning to the problems of the living. All he had to worry about now was accounting for himself before Agni.

One man dies, a woman and two children are safe. I have to make those kinds of calculations.

I hate what I do sometimes.

–

"I'm telling you, it's been five minutes."

"Lady, unless you've got my gold, this ship ain't sailing."

Azula gave up in the face of naked greed. Oh well, if she was lucky, it would come to a fight. She _needed_ to let out some aggression.

Suddenly, Zuko looked up from his seat on the bench, as everyone looked up at the sound of footsteps.

"Aha! It's him! And he's... had a haircut?"

"It was a wig," Piandao snapped, as he swooped into the group gathered on the pier. Then he seemed to remember his manners.

"My Lady, everyone, are you alright?"

"Yes, Master Piandao, we are quite well," Ursa replied.

"Excellent. Excuse my brusqueness, but time is of the essence. Fat, I am afraid I have need of you once more, old friend."

"As always, Master, you have only to ask."

"Take the carriage. There was more than one agent, and I do not have time to deal with the other. Go..." he seemed to pause, almost in reminiscence "...go home. If you can, stay there. I may return before the year is out, I hope."

"Of course, Master. Good luck to you."

"And to you."

Fat bowed to his master, and to Azula's mild distaste, Piandao bowed back, before turning to the rough man standing on the gangplank.

"Captain. Shall we?"


	13. The Order of the White Lotus Wants YOU

_Or,_

_ If Yo' on the Shore, Then Yo' Sure Not Me-oh. _

–

The first order of business was casting off. This was, as ever, achieved by the Captain shouting "Cast off!" and looking menacing enough that his crew did so with admirable efficiency. The second order of business was ensuring that the Lady Ursa and her family were quartered adequately. They were given the cabin that I usually berthed in- I informed them that there were other rooms, and they did not have to all stay in the same one, but the Princess did not seem to welcome this suggestion. I used my discretion.

The final thing I had to do was have a drink with the Captain. This wouldn't have been such a chore, and indeed under other circumstances I might have enjoyed it, but I hadn't slept for two straight days now, and was having trouble even walking in a straight line since the adrenaline had gurgled away.

Still, it always pays to be polite, so I sat quietly while he poured two cups of grog.

He always drinks grog- the same stuff the crew have, rum, water and lime juice. I think it's a mark of camaraderie for him.

"So, Piandao, what manner of business are we conducting for ye this time?" he asked, fairly jovially.

"Just transportation."

"Aye. And who exactly are we transporting?"

I focused as well I could, and took a deliberate swig.

"You've never needed to know before. I thought you understood my compulsion for privacy."

"Aye, but perhaps a man takes it into his head to keep an ear to the ground these days. Perhaps he hears a partic'larly ugly rumour coming out of the Fire Nation. Perhaps he wants to know if he's to expect a couple ironclads on his tail, and he wants to know in advance, since that kind of thing costs extra. Perhaps, in short, he's aware that information is a currency these days, and knows you need a bit of it as a kind of... guarantee, as it were."

Oh. Damn. The Captain wants into the big leagues. Either that, or he's already betrayed us.

I'm too tired for this.

…There is one thing. The Captain is sitting across the table, looking expectant. I wonder how long he has planned this. He would benefit from knowing, and so would we, if he keeps his word.

The Captain is an intelligent man. He knows that consolidated rule by the Fire Nation would be good for nobody, and _certainly_ not good for him. He also knows what I am capable of, what I will do if he should turn on us. Perhaps, in fact, this is sincere.

This isn't about Ursa, not really. She's just a catalyst. Maybe he thinks that if he's being put in this kind of danger- and there is a chance we will be pursued- he should be compensated in some way. I suppose that's rational enough.

"Captain," I said, jerking my head backwards a little, just to make sure I wasn't about to fall asleep, "I have a proposition for you."

"Aye?" He sounds cautiously interested.

"You have proved invaluable, Captain, for years now. You have never gone back on the terms of our agreement, however informal it was, and have at times put yourself in considerable danger."

"If ye're trying to pander to me sense o' self worth, Piandao, ye're wastin' yer time. Get to the point."

"Alright. I would like to formalise our agreement."

"Formalise? …Aye, I see what ye mean. State yer terms, then, and we'll see." He leant back, and folded his arms across his chest.

"It's simple enough. Not much would change, except we'd pay you a retainer to be on call at any time, as oppose to paying by the trip." Damn. This is why I shouldn't negotiate without sleep.

If he noticed my slip up, he made no sign.

"That sounds all well and good, but I can get gold anywhere, Piandao. You're in the business of fightin' a war, and yer puttin' us in harm's way. It's only fair that you tell us what ye know, if it'll warn us of any dangers we're not aware of."

I considered this.

Time to roll the dice.

"There is one thing. A piece of information that could potentially make you, and any contacts you wish to inform, very wealthy indeed. But Captain," I said, looking him dead in the eyes, "if I am going to tell you this, it's only fair to know that a great many people have died for finding this out. I would hate for you to become one of them."

He's interested now.

I took a piece of paper from his desk, and wrote a date on it, as well as a few sentences. The truth we don't dare to say out loud, just in case the walls are listening.

When I was finished I pushed the paper towards him. He turned it around, and read it.

I might as well have punched him.

"...Hellfire, Piandao," he breathed. "You're sure about this?"

"Dead sure."

I watched visions of plunder nudge their way into his brain. "This... this is quite the opportunity."

"Indeed. For you and anyone else you'd like to owe you a favour. But if you wish to tell anyone, do not tell them _why_. Simply tell them that the Fire Nation will be weakest at this date."

"...Aye, I could do that." He slowly grinned. "Piandao, you sly dog. This is what you've been working up to?"

"Yes. I'm going to make sure the Fire Lord has a very bad day."

The Captain barked with laughter, and extended his hand. We shook, and drained our mugs.

"You have me word, Piandao. I'll stick my neck out for ye again. And rest assured the Fire Lord won't hear a word from me. Or at least no word you'd want yer children to hear."

That sounded good enough.

–

Business concluded, I staggered to my room, and was asleep almost before I took my boots off.

–

How one was supposed to sleep in a hammock, Azula would never know. Because if she ever came within fifty feet of another hammock for the rest of her life, she was going to destroy it.

–

The morning dawned bright and early, but fortunately I was not awake to experience it, and had to be informed of this fact second hand when I emerged from my room at around three in the afternoon.

I felt better, now. No matter how badly things had gone, and it would be hard to deny that they had gone wrong indeed, we were safe for the moment, and we had time to plan.

I leant against the railing, watching people come and go, engrossed in the process of keeping the ship running. A figure sloped into view, a teenager, with a ponytail and a glum expression.

The plan continued. Warped, and truncated, it's true, but there was a way.

I pushed myself up, and ambled unconcernedly towards the Crown Prince.

–

"Azula, please."

"Why?"

"You shouldn't stay in here all day, Azula. Get up."

"Why? We're surrounded on all sides by criminal lowlifes. This is the only privacy I am afforded, and I am not going to give it up."

"Yes, dear, but you haven't even _eaten_ , and it's well past noon. Azula? Azula, I will not allow this. At least _look_ as though you are listening to me, Azula."

She sighed, and rolled back over.

–

"Keep your arms straight. Not that straight. Now, on the count of three, pull. One, two, _three_! Harder, put your back into it!"

"Why are we doing this again? It's not like there aren't crewmen around or anything."

"One," I told him, "it makes you seem a little less like some spoiled noble. We can't entirely trust these men- the Captain gave me his word, and I believe it, but not all his crew are bound by that. Two, we had to call in several expensive favours to make sure the Captain got his ship to us on time, and that means he's not got a full complement of sailors, so it's only polite to muck in- remember that. Three, we get a discount this way, and I'm not made of money, and four, and most importantly, you're learning something. You'll find women appreciate a man who knows his way around a guy rope."

Zuko considered this.

"Is that last one true? I mean, it seems pretty specific."

"At this rate, you'll never know. Now pay attention, your line's starting to slip."

The boy seemed receptive to new ideas. This was more than I had hoped for, although I would have to be careful to make sure he didn't realise what I was doing, at least not yet. Perhaps in the coming days I can teach him more overtly.

I wonder, is he a swordsman?

–

Azula was not interested in leaving the room. However, she had even less interest in getting into an argument with Mother, and so she decided that the simplest thing to do would be to simply go outside for five minutes, then retire as soon as Mother stopped paying attention.

While she was there, she supposed it would be sensible to make not of where everyone was. Mother was... hovering. Probably to make sure that Azula actually stayed outside, unfortunately. In all honesty, it wasn't like Azula was some kind of potted plant or...

What's this?

Zuko was having an animated conversation with Master Piandao. Well, Zuko looked animated, anyway. Piandao looked... _smug_. There was no other word for it. It was the look of a man that was sitting back after hours of fiddling around with cogs and counterweights and hinges and fulcrums, and was now watching his mysterious contraption as it clicked and clacked and possibly transported a marble from one point to another, with a sense of obvious accomplishment.

This looked like trouble.

Casually, slowly, Azula ambled over to where the two were talking, but before she'd got halfway, Piandao had nodded to her brother, and moved away.

She was _almost_ certain he hadn't looked at her.

–

Note to self. The Princess could be a complicating factor. I shall have to think of a way to address this in future.

–

When Zuko returned to the room, Azula was waiting for him.

"What, exactly, did Master Piandao want to talk to you about?" she asked, as casually as she could.

Zuko glanced at her, uneasily. Perhaps she needed to work on 'casual'.

"Not much. We just talked. About swordsmanship, and things."

"But of course. And was it useful advice?"

"Well, yeah." Zuko shrugged. "But he's supposed to be the greatest swordsman alive, so I'd be kind of surprised if it wasn't."

"Of course. And in the course of your discussion of plebeian toys, did any other matters spontaneously enter into the conversation? Perhaps a little philosophy?"

Zuko's faced flashed with annoyance.

"What are you saying, Azula? Speak plainly, for once."

Her nostrils flared.

"Very well. Zuko, I think he's trying to influence you. He's trying to curry favour, so that later, you will be obliged to him."

"Azula, we already owe him. More than I think I'm going to be in a position to pay back any time soon."

Azula waved him down.

"The man believes himself to be a patriot. We are Royal. Of course he would aid us. But he's dangerous, Zuko, and smart. Smarter than _you_ are, anyway."

"Hey!"

Azula shrugged. "You did ask me to speak plainly, Zuko. But I am only trying to warn you. Don't let him think you're in his debt, Zuko."

His brow furrowed.

"Why? Why do you think he's trying to build up credit with me, Azula? It's not like we've got anything we can give him."

Azula suddenly found herself experiencing something she had hitherto never thought possible- the almost inexorable urge to slam her head into a wall until she didn't have to continue this conversation in the face of Zuko's utter... _Zukoishness_.

"Zuko," she said, every syllable dragged out, wringing every last drop of ambiguity from what she was about to say, "listen to me. He is attempting to gain your favour, because _you will be Fire Lord_. You are heir to the throne, and he wants you to listen to him, so he can tell you what to do."

It looked as though Zuko had been hit in the face with a brick. For twelve seconds (Azula counted), he could do nothing but stand in silence, his jaw swaying in the breeze.

"Oh," he forced, through a constricted throat. He repeated the sentiment several times.

"Do you need a moment?" Azula asked, the very picture of sisterly concern.

When there was no reply, she sighed indulgently, and got up.

Zuko finally reacted when she pushed a chair under his legs with enough force that he had no choice but to sit down.

"You honestly never considered this?" Azula asked, once Zuko looked as though there was at least a chance he would even hear her again.

"Well, sure, but..."

But.

But things had changed. Irrevocably.

And so quickly, too. It was like they were on the run, not from the Fire Lord and all his agents, but from change. From having to accept.

They couldn't keep this up forever, or even for long. But they'd be damned if they didn't try. And in the face of all this, she couldn't, try as she might, blame Zuko for letting his guard down in front of a man who seemed to be a friend.

"I understand," Azula found herself saying, before she could stop herself.

Zuko, for his part, didn't seem to notice, and just slumped in his chair, staring at his hands. The way he was so obviously oblivious of everything else in the room was starting to make Azula feel a little put out.

Eventually, he managed to say one thing.

"What am I going to _do_? I can't- I can't _govern!_ " He let loose a mad, high-pitched giggle of pure terror. "I wouldn't know where to _start_!"

Azula felt it was only right to step in at this point. She patted down his hair, like you would a small child, or a pet.

"There there, Zuko. I'm sure you'll do fine. After all, the economics of the farming basin are really much simpler than they look at first glance, and really, a lot of this is already dealt with at a basic level, so really all you'll have to worry about is-"

"That's it! Azula, you know about this stuff, right?"

Hook. Line. Sinker.

"Of course- fa- I read. A lot. There was really little else to do some days."

"So..."

"...So..."

"...So you'll help me? Tell me when what I'm doing is a bad idea?"

"Of course, Zuko. After all, it's as much in my interests as it is in yours that we makes sure the Fire Nation doesn't slide into the sea."

"Thanks. Your confidence in me is... is..."

"Underwhelming?"

"Thank you."

–

Another night's rest, and I was feeling quite human again. I could even open my eyes all the way without even trying hard.

It was maybe mid-morning, and the Lady Ursa was outside, taking the air. Her children had yet to emerge.

I was hoping to talk to Princess Azula. I think she may consider me an enemy, and I have to deal with that. Fat had always said, in his reports, that she was a precocious child, an unparalelled firebender, and very much closer to her father than Prince Zuko was. I have to wonder if she could be utilised in some way.

I think that would be the best option. Recruit her- not to the Society, no, but at least to our side. Persuade her, as we did Ozai, that ours is the only possible way.

It all sounds rather ominous, when put like that. Perhaps that is something I shall have to work on.

Aha. Here she comes now.

–

Azula was on guard the instant she stepped out into the daylight.

As expected, he was there. No doubt preparing a fresh round of propaganda for the new day.

The best way to deal with this was head on.

"Good morning, Master Piandao," she said, once she was close enough to him not to have to raise her voice.

He bowed low, which mollified her a little- until she realised that was almost certainly exactly why he was doing it. "Good morning, Princess. I trust you slept well?"

"Adequately," she replied. Hopefully that one would get past him- it was a weakness, a flaw, and one she intended to expunge as quickly as possible.

–

Well, three seconds in, and already she has lied to me.

Ugh. Save me from child geniuses.

–

He nodded, as though he had expected nothing else.

"Excellent. And may I inquire as-"

" _Captain!_ "

All eyes shot upwards, to the crow's nest. The lookout was pointing frantically at a point on the horizon.

Instantly, Piandao rushed up to the back end of the boat (Azula was not the most nautical of types), and produced a spyglass from deep within some pocket as Azula struggled to keep pace with him, narrowly avoiding crashing into confused crewmen. Extending the device, he scanned the indicated direction, and Azula saw what she would have otherwise taken as a dark grey cloud.

Oh. Oh dear.

"Pursuit?" she asked, snapping the word.

Slowly, stiffly, Piandao lowered the telescope.

"No. No, we are not the target." he didn't sound like he thought this was a good thing.

"Then what is the problem?"

–

The problem?

The problem is I know the prow of that ship. I've seen it before, more than once.

 _The Coiling Dragon_.

Admiral Zhao is on the move.


	14. Politicise

_Or,_

_ Everything Starts to Look Like a Nail. _

–

I peered through the spyglass, hoping that I would find something that would make sense of what I was seeing. All I got were more questions.

It was definitely _The Coiling Dragon_. The ostentatious prow was unmistakable even at this distance- a tasteless man's vision of what the prow of a ship called _The Coiling Dragon_ should look like. But why was it here?

Were there other ships following it? Yes. Around twenty, no less than seventeen, no more than twenty-five. Why? Were they all that remained of the Northern Fleet?

Were any of them noticeably battle-damaged? No, although several were low in the water. Why were they intact? How had they survived?

And what had happened to the men sent to apprehend the disgraced Admiral?

That last question was probably the easiest to answer.

"Captain," I said, for the man had appeared next to me, "could you find out which way those ships are headed? It might be important."

I think we shall have to consider this carefully.

–

We were seated around the long table in the Captain's quarters. I had invited the Lady Ursa and her children to attend the meeting, for two reasons.

Firstly, it might disarm them to our intentions somewhat. If they think that I am prepared to allow them access to the decision making process, then they will feel less... powerless. Allowing them access to our group, giving them a taste of importance, might make up for the sharp downturn of their status over the last week a little. Of course, this business with Admiral Zhao will most likely turn out to be a sideshow, nothing more than a prelude to the main event, so really, if they (and by 'they', I really mean 'Princess Azula') try to somehow use this as an opportunity to hurt the Order, by planting misinformation or something similar, any damage they do (assuming I believe them) will be containable.

The second reason is that one of them might have something insightful to say. But really, that's a distant second.

–

Azula had a feeling she knew why she was allowed to be there, and didn't like it.

Oh well; at the very least she could try to keep Mother and Zuko in line.

–

A map was spread across the table in front of us. A small white stone marked our position, while a black one marked the location of Zhao's small fleet. String indicated their approximate direction. The picture was clear enough, I'm afraid. But it didn't make _sense_. But then I have potentially untapped information at my disposal.

"I have never met Admiral Zhao," I said, breaking the silence. "Did he ever go to the Palace?" Of course he did.

The Lady Ursa was the one who answered- her son glanced at his sister, for the briefest of seconds, and stayed silent.

"A couple of times, yes."

"If you do not mind, I would very much like to know what your opinion of him was."

The Lady seems confused, but answers anyway.

"He seemed- I will confess I did not have much reason to speak with him- but he seemed courteous enough." By which she means he was not noticeably polite or otherwise. "And he seemed... I can hardly remember. He smiled often." They way she delivered that little aside spoke volumes.

The Princess knows more. That much is obvious.

–

Azula was getting annoyed. What was the point of this exercise? It was blatantly obvious where Zhao was headed. There were only two places he could possibly be interested in in the South-East, and he had already passed several refuelling stations. Really, what good did it do to try and understand the Admiral, when it was obvious what he planned to do?

Perhaps Master Piandao was not as intelligent as she had been led to believe.

–

She's withholding information. Of course she is.

You can see it in her eyes- nowhere else, of course, but I'm good at reading people who don't want to be read. She wants to be her own faction in this conflict. She doesn't like the idea that she can't stand on her own- and she _can't_ , at least not now, and not here. Eventually, she'll realise that if she's going to get any of what she wants, she's going to have to play along, and make concessions. She'll figure out that her sense of entitlement is not only no longer acceptable, but will put her in serious danger.

It would be really convenient if she figured this out within the next five minutes or so.

–

She knew about Zhao, of course. Fa- she had-

_No. Finish the thought._

-Father. He had complained about the man, on more than one occasion, during their talks. He had told her about the man, and how his type were common.

Father had made a deal with Master Piandao. That counted for something, she thought.

_Of course, Father had died because of that deal, but that was hardly Piandao's doing._

And besides, this information was so trivial, so unimportant, that it was hardly a capitulation to tell him. Perhaps it would convince him that she had been lulled into trusting him.

–

I was startled when Azula spoke up. Stupid.

"He's arrogant, satisfied with himself but not with his position, cunning but not intelligent, and mistakes smugness for subtlety. He hides his poor temper, but not well. Nevertheless, he can charm when he wants to, by saying what people want to hear. Is that helpful?" she demanded, sitting back while her brother goggled.

"Yes indeed, thank you, Princess." To be fair, nothing she said was new to me, but I needed it confirmed from an at least possibly impartial source.

The only possible reason Zhao would be heading into the South-East would be to attack Kyoshi Island. This is not the action of a rational man in Zhao's position. A rational man would run, or hide, and lie low. So therefore these are the actions of an irrational man.

Zhao- well, the only explanation is that he wants to take advantage of Iroh's shaky throne. Possibly that's what he's wanted from the beginning, but since his debacle at the North Pole, the only viable target for his diminished forces is Kyoshi. At least, he _thinks_ it's viable. Certainly his forces could _take_ Kyoshi, but _keeping_ it would be an entirely different matter.

No. I cannot afford to think like that. Cannot afford to even consider letting Kyoshi fall.

But on the other hand...

–

Ursa's eyes darted around the cabin, taking in the furnishings. Zuko shuffled awkwardly in his seat. Azula just glared at the tall man, his chin resting on his fist. The only one who seemed at ease was the Captain, lounging in the corner chair with a cup of grog, completely ignoring everything, and humming to himself.

"What's he doing?" Zuko murmured, looking uneasily at Piandao, who gave no sign that he had noticed at all.

Azula shrugged.

–

So. What forces are at our disposal in the South East area?

Hmm. That's rather a broad question.

What forces in the South East area wouldn't be missed for...

...um...

"Captain? How long, in your professional opinion, would Zhao take to get to Kyoshi Island?"

–

The Captain scratched his roughly-shaven chin. Azula almost shuddered.

"I'd say, depending on the weather, between a week and, say, ten days. Unless he stops at the refuelling station, which would add another day or two."

–

Hmm. Call it a week, then.

So, who can get to the island in under a week, who wouldn't be missed, and, most importantly, could actually help?

…

Oh hell.

–

Azula watched Piandao's brow furrow. It appeared that he had had an unpleasant thought.

She thought he might have sworn under his breath.

He glanced up, and stared from her to Zuko. She didn't like the way he was looking at them. It was like he was... calculating.

–

They can fight. Azula is intelligent, and Zuko is naturally fairly amicable. They'll be able to get by for a week.

I don't like this, but it's the best decision. I think.

I hope.

Every tactician has to take a gamble sometimes.

–

It looked like he was done thinking.

He sighed, and straightened up.

"My Lady, it appears that I shall have to take my leave of you and your family, for a while."

Well, if that wasn't the best news Azula had heard in days.

–

I slept deeply that night, and the next morning was spent in practice.

–

Azula woke early. A miracle in itself.

Perhaps she would go outside, and view the dawn. Zuko would be waking soon, and she wanted some time to herself.

But when she arrived on deck, a much more important opportunity presented itself.

–

Azula has awoken. Perhaps I should take the opportunity to talk to her, before we make land later today. First, though, I have to finish.

I have neglected my practice in the last week, and I cannot afford to be less than peak on Kyoshi. If I am wounded, it will slow my return to the Lady Ursa, and I am going to be away from them too long as it is.

–

Azula watched in silence.

It was almost humbling. His form was perfect.

 _Perfect_. The blade fluttered through the air, almost invisible as it ran across the bleeding horizon, scraping the dawn light, unpredictable and perfectly controlled. His balance was perfect, never having to correct his footing even as he leapt up onto the railing, compensating for the buck and swell of the ship without even showing it. He moved like someone doing what they were born to do.

It worried her. It worried her a great deal.

–

She's watching. I'd really rather she didn't- I get rather self-conscious when I am observed.

She is almost certainly trying to find my weaknesses. It is what I would do in her situation.

I have a great many weaknesses, but I pride myself that she is looking in the wrong place for them.

–

Well, now at least she had confirmation of something she had wondered about. Piandao was a _very_ dangerous man. Fighting him was now designated a last resort, a strategy of desperation.

But she had a plan, now, so she wouldn't have to confront him directly after all. Of course, he probably knew every detail of her plan, since there were maybe three details to it at the moment, but what could he do about it?

–

I was well aware that Azula still despised having to cooperate with us. I was well aware that I was going to be giving her ample opportunity to simply escape us as soon as I left.

I had made plans for that. If she is going to go against us, she will naturally wish to take her family with her. Which is why I spent much of yesterday evening in conversation with the Lady Ursa.

The Lady is a dangerous woman. At the moment, I believe two goals drive her. She wishes to see her children safe, and she wishes to see Iroh dead. This lines up quite nicely with our stated goals, and she seemed open to the idea of ending the war, although perhaps she may need more persuasion in that regard.

Prince Zuko, however, is not the type to be swayed by arguments. He needs a demonstration. Something that will stick in the mind. I do not need to appeal to his reason, no. I think I know his type- I need something that will appeal to his _honour_.

Something has been arranged.

By me, of course. After all, there's no one else around to do the arranging.

Anyway, the idea is, if those two are at least slightly convinced that we can and want to help them, the Princess should be unable to convince them to flee before I return. That's the idea, anyway.

Of course we could find them again if they escaped. But that would be the final straw. Everything I have been trying to do would be undone. They would begin to resent us, and see themselves as prisoners, and from there things could only become varying degrees of _broken_. Is it overstating things to say that the fate of the entire world depends on us keeping their goodwill? No, not really.

–

The cliffs are in sight, now.

We had passed the peninsula at midday- if I had been looking, I might have been able to see the ruined fortifications there- and were nearing our landing point.

The position was sub-optimal if I wanted to get to Kyoshi quickly, but there was another reason for my choice.

We were coming in on a cloud of smoke.

No.

Wait.

That's not right. It's not smoke. It's very vehemently not smoke.

Regardless, it's something that acts exactly like smoke, and it is produced from these two large pipe things. They're an invention by a man, a friend of the Order. He probably would have become a member, in time, if he had been given the chance. But he left us devices like these ones, and we distributed them freely. It's an edge.

The smoke is generated by... something. I believe crystals are involved somewhere. But in any case, they are rare, and the only way the Captain can get hold of them is through us. Another leash we keep him on.

But anyway. We were hidden by clouds of smoke, which stung the eyes and irritated the throat but made for excellent cover, and we drifted easily up to shore.

Myself, the Lady Ursa, and her children were all sitting in the small rowboat that was being lowered over the side. The Captain waved us off.

"See you around, Piandao," he grinned, as we sank into the not-smoke.

"A pleasure as always, Captain."

Well, I thought to myself, as I began to row us towards shore. I was back. Two years gone, and I was returning to the sewers of Omashu.

Ugh.


	15. Return to Rubble

_Or,_

_ You See Now, Sire, the Fruits of Victory. _

–

Azula did not like this place. She did not like it at all.

If asked, she would say it was the way the mist clung to the ground, stubbornly holding on to the land- it could hide any number of dangers. She would say it was the canyon walls, tall and foreboding (and she swore, once or twice, that she saw movement high on the sides of the walls)- they blocked out the sun, denying her Agni's warmth. She might even say it was the smell- this river was an open sewer, and made no effort to disguise that fact.

It was none of those things, though. She just didn't like it.

That was ridiculous, though. Frivolous, and childish.

–

We ditched the boat at what I estimated to be mid-morning. My arms were getting tired, rowing against the current, and it seemed impolite to ask Zuko to row.

Azula destroyed the boat, after I asked her nicely. She seemed to be looking for a good reason to refuse, but couldn't find one in time.

Honestly. There's attempting to undermine my agenda, and then there's just childishness.

Wait. She is a child.

I suppose that's acceptable, then.

I led the way, setting as brisk a pace as I thought we would be able to maintain. I had to stop myself moving any faster- although Spring was long since upon us, the damp mist and the tall cliffs blocking the sun made the canyon deathly cold. I resorted to swinging my arms periodically in a not quite vain effort to warm myself up. The Lady Ursa, being the entirely civilian member of the group (the children were at least trained, although that only counts so far, but nevertheless they were in fighting shape) was simply concentrating on walking, and the siblings were of course firebenders, and so less susceptible to the cold than the rest of us mortals.

That might be the one thing I have consistently envied about firebenders. Well, that and the ability to get a campfire started first time.

–

They trudged along the bank of the river, they grey sand beneath their feet damp and gritty, sticking to Azula's shoes in small clumps, defying her covert attempts to remove it. It was revolting.

The final straw came when she stepped on a concealed hole- the burrow of some small animal, most likely- and her foot disappeared into the ground.

"Was there some pressing reason why we had to come _this_ way?" she asked as she attempted to pull herself out of the damp sand, stubbornly ignoring Zuko's proffered hand.

Master Piandao stopped, and half-turned.

"I know it's not exactly the most pleasant of locations, Princess, but it does have several advantages. It's the fastest point for me to get to Kyoshi Island,"

–

That isn't even _close_ to being true. If I wanted to be as fast as I could, I would have had us land back at Ho Sang, where I had left my eelhound (and I shall have to pick him up soon, or the bill for the stable will be ridiculous). It's further, but I would have my eelhound, which would have made up the distance and then some.

–

"And also the most convenient for your guide to meet us."

–

Another lie. That would be a point ten miles north. Close to Ho Sang, actually.

–

"It also has the advantage of being a place that the Fire Nation never patrols."

–

That, at least, is true.

–

"And why is that?" Azula asked, as she grudgingly took Zuko's hand, pulling herself out of the sand. It felt like a defeat, somehow.

"..."

–

I'd really hoped this wouldn't come up.

"There's nothing down here," I tried. "Just a sewer, and some rocks."

"And," said Azula, pointedly, "an undetectable passage directly below Omashu."

"Yes. That too." Damn. Damn damn damn.

We started walking again.

–

He still hadn't answered her question. Zuko and Ursa were beginning to look confused. Normally, Azula might have been pleased at this, but now she barely noticed. For some reason, she was starting to be worried about whatever Master Piandao might say.

Except he wasn't saying it. So she asked again.

"So why do they not patrol down here?"

He didn't turn around, but she could see him exhale heavily.

"They rely on the local fauna to act as a deterrent."

Oh, right.

What.

" _What_?" Zuko interjected, after a moment.

–

I shrugged, and turned around as it became apparent that no one else was moving.

"This area is home to canyon crawlers and the like. Since such beasts aren't found in the Fire Nation, the soldiers are naturally terrified of them, and assume them to be perfect monsters to guard this crevasse. The canyon crawler is, by and large, a fantastically lazy beast. They don't go anywhere without the assurance of a meal, and they almost always prefer carrion to anything that might fight back. The only thing to worry about is their sense of smell, so we shall have to leave the canyon before we eat again. And that is about the most discomfort we shall be put through down here. With any luck."

The Lady Ursa still looks disapproving. Zuko looks ruffled, still. Azula is, of course, inscrutable.

"It would have been polite to let us know this, Master." Ursa does 'admonishing' well.

"I realise that, my Lady. But I was in something of a hurry. I will bear this in mind for next time."

And then we were off again. Good.

I really don't want to have to spend the night down here.

–

Azula seethed, privately.

That had been a _golden_ opportunity. For half an instant, Master Piandao had been on the back foot, had been caught out. But he had recovered, and reassured Mother and Zuko as to his intentions.

Azula had no one to blame but herself, really. Even though Zuko _had_ butted in. She hadn't been forward enough when she had the chance.

She consoled herself with the thought that she would have another chance. And besides, Zuko and Mother still seemed slightly put off by the whole business.

Maybe she could work with that, if not now, then in the days ahead.

Although they were apparently meeting a 'guide'. Problematic, but really, she had expected something along those lines. She could deal with that.

They kept walking.

–

We were getting close.

–

Azula had long since lost track of how long they had been walking- the thin mist that clung implacably to the edges of her vision added an almost dreamlike quality to the drudgery of repetition. Follow the river as it gently curved and weaved. Watch the bend in the canyon. As you go around the bend, watch for the next one. Repeat. On and on in an unending cycle until she was almost certain she had fallen asleep hours ago and then-

And then there was the city. A great, terrifying pillar, rising up from the ground (and she supposed that was literally true), dashing the mist against itself. Even from a hundred feet away she still had to crane her neck to even see where the buildings began.

Piandao never slowed. Never even turned his head upwards. Just kept following the river.

Oh well. Keep moving, then.

–

So close I can taste it, now. We've got the weather for it, too- overcast, but not about to rain. Rain would spoil the impact somewhat. Well, a little drizzle might not hurt.

This idea leaves a sour taste in my mouth. But that cannot be helped, I fear.

Too late to turn around now.

–

Azula wondered, for a moment, why the ground was growing steadily more uneven as they walked. The damp grey sand was becoming studded with rock, more and more frequent with every step until they were climbing an erratic hill of stones.

Ah. Rubble.

Why was there a mass of debris at the bottom of the canyon?

It must have come from the city. A construction project? Not likely. Earthbenders would never be so wasteful of the stone.

And then she almost slipped, the loose stones beneath her feet giving way, and she barely managed to leap back to stable footing in time.

The shifting of the stone had revealed something. Mottled yellow, and smooth.

Azula noted, from some detached corner of her brain, that it looked an awful lot like a fragment of skull.

Well that explained where the rubble had come from, at least.

–

And here we go. Azula has uncovered something.

There's not an awful lot left, on the surface. Unless you were looking, and knew what to look for, it would be easy to mistake this for just a pile of rock. Canyon Crawlers don't leave much that's recognisable.

But if you dig a little, or, say, start to pay attention, you start to notice things. The shape of some of the rocks. The fact that they aren't stones at all. And that is exactly what they have started to do.

There is no dawn of comprehension on the Lady Ursa's face. There's not much of anything that would show. I would hardly think she fails to recognise this, though.

Azula- Azula is interesting. She looks more revolted than anything else, like she had just seen something that offended the senses- and she could, if she dug deep enough, I am sure- but little more. Hmm.

It is Zuko, though, that I am really concerned with here. He is the reason for this detour, after all.

I could talk with him for days, present the most convincing arguments I could think of, bring forward evidence, statistics, anything I wished for, but nothing could be more convincing for him than an example. I needed to show him what victory looked like.

Is it what you imagined, Prince? In all the tales of glory, did you ever stop to think of the people who never made it home? Of the people caught in the crossfire?

I didn't. Not until I saw what victory meant.

And this is what is ugly about this plan. I'm turning the massacre into a _demonstration_. Using the dead to manipulate a boy. It smacks of dishonour.

I long ago gave up the dream of being an honourable man, though.

–

Azula wrinkled her nose.

This was... distasteful. But she had long since reconciled with the fact that some sacrifices would have to be made, and, well, better for the enemy to make them than the Fire Nation, when all was said and done.

Of course, no one could say that the deaths of civilians was ever defensible, but then the ruler of the city should have surrendered when given the chance.

Looking over, it occurred to her that perhaps Zuko might have benefited from learning some of these lessons earlier. He looked...

Distraught.

–

Say it. Come on, Zuko. Say it. You know you want to. I can _see_ the question scrambling up your throat, not going anywhere near your brain. Say it. Say it say it say itsayitsait _say it_ -

"...What _happened_ here?"

Thank you, Zuko. I couldn't have asked for a better straight man.

"This was the market district of Omashu. Until the Fire Nation attacked, of course. Now it's just a mass grave. Sappers dug into the rock walls, and planted hundreds upon hundreds of charges beneath the city. And they detonated them, leading to... this."

It was quite the opening gambit.

I still remember the shudder, some days (some nights, too). I was standing on the parapet, peering down at the city. Bumi and I were watching the great mobile bridges the Fire Nation were arraying against the city, to try to cross the ravine. They wouldn't work. We were ready for them.

The Fire Nation generals are typically all too eager to use their new toys, and often have a poor grasp of when they would be appropriate.

I remember almost chucking as I watched the awkward contraptions extend across the canyon.

And then the world shifted.

The entire city _bucked_ , throwing us off balance, and by the time I righted myself I could see a huge cloud of dust billowing up from one side of the canyon, and could do nothing but watch transfixed as a whole _quarter_ of the city just... crumpled, slipping grinding sliding its way into oblivion.

The bridges extended, unopposed.

Bumi looked like a man destroyed.

–

The destruction of the entire market district?

Really?

Azula shook her head. Such a plan seemed nothing short of... _wasteful_. Certainly it was effective- the results spoke for themselves- but the collateral damage was really unnecessary and somewhat... inelegant. Not to mention it killed a great many people, many of whom had skills- carpentry, farming, what have you- that would have proved useful to the Fire Nation. If the Earth Kingdom nobility (and she used the term loosely) had been exterminated with the fall of the city, that might have been a less lamentable loss.

Brute force had never appealed to her, anyway.

–

I wonder, looking at their reactions, how much they have really been _told_ about what has been happening. For Zuko, judging by his reaction, it hasn't been much. Azula? More, maybe, but she still seems affected by it.

The Lady Ursa... she _must_ have _known_ , before, about the particulars- after all, Ozai knew, and I think I knew the man well enough to know that he would keep his wife informed- he trusted her with as much as we would allow him to tell her- but I don't think she really thought about it too much. Well, now she doesn't have much of a choice.

So much the better for me, I suppose.

I let them stew in the silence and the cold for a minute or two. But no longer.

"My Lady, we should be moving on."

The Lady Ursa looks up, sharply, then nods, once.

"Yes. Indeed we should."

I think the mood has been set well enough. They're thinking, anyway. Challenging a few long-held misconceptions. Good enough for now, as long as they're _thinking_.

And what will you do, Piandao, if the Prince thinks about it, and comes to the conclusion that the war is worth it? That his great-grandfather's cause is worth the pain? After all, his uncle certainly came to that conclusion, and his father did, until we convinced him otherwise. What will you do then?

–

He stumbled. Just for a second, but Azula was _certain_ that Master Piandao tripped.

–

It's an unpleasant question.

I'm trying to influence the Prince's decision. Of course I am. It is _vital_ that he be convinced that the War needs to end. Preferably before Summer's End, but we have contingency plans for that not being the case. But by the time he is Fire Lord, he _must_ have the desire to end the war.

If he doesn't, though? What will I do?

Logic dictates that the Prince should suffer some terrible accident. And that is not happening for any number of reasons.

For one, it would put _Azula_ in line for the throne, and she is …unconvinced that we mean her no harm. To say the least.

And the other reason would be that I would have to murder a sixteen year old boy, and I hope that that is a depth to which I will not sink.

We have standards, you know, in the depths. I have known murderers and rapists who would slit your throat for suggesting they rob an old widow. Ten- hell, two years ago I would never have understood that.

Two years ago, I was just a foot soldier in Bumi's war.

I never thought I would miss that. But it was _simple_.

–

There was a _lot_ of rubble.

It seemed to be making Zuko thoughtful.

That couldn't be good.

"... _sss"_

–

My sword is in my hand before I even know what's happening.

–

Azula's eyes flicked up.

Something was moving in the mist. A dark shape.

A very, very large shape.

This couldn't be good.

–

Oh hell.

Oh _hell_.

–

Zuko had seen it. His hand rested on the swords at his back, his eyes were wide.

Mother had nothing to defend herself with. Azula took half a step sideways, towards her, her eyes trained on the circling mass of shadow in the wreckage.

The hissing was getting louder.

Zuko opened his mouth.

"Wha-"

–

"On my mark, I need you all to run. Keep following the river. Approximately half a mile away you will see a man on the opposite bank. If the man has a lot of untidy white hair, you can trust him. He will be your guide. If it's anyone else, get as far away from them as fast as you can and keep following the river until you come to a cave. That will lead you up into the mountains, and I will send word for someone to find you. But don't move until I say so. Alright?"

No one says anything. Smart.

The silence accentuates the hissing, spitting noise, cutting over every other sound, interfering with any attempt to listen for the beast's footfalls.

I keep my eyes locked on the beast as it circles closer. It's getting clearer now.

Not yet. Come on, come on.I don't have all day.

Not yet. Not until I can see the yellow of its eyes.

–

The noise was bearing down on her, drilling through her ears and suddenly she could _see_ the creature, the fog rolling off it like water and it was _huge,_ a mass of grey fur and dull scales and a long, long neck and suddenly everything went silent.

–

Finally.

" _NOW!"_

I leap, angling myself to deflect and misdirect the lunge of that huge neck. As the beast snaps forward, my sword flicks out, the sheer pressure of the creature's strike knocking me aside, but it was enough- huge jaws closed on nothing, and the monster noticed me.

Better me than the others.

As my charges begin to ( _finally_ ) move, I keep myself between them and the viper-rat. Keep myself in view.

The creature hunches, muscles bunching in preparation to leap.

There's a pillar behind me, and three paces to my right. A gully to my left, and a small pile of rock directly in between me and the monster.

Nothing useful immediately, but-

As the creature lunges, I roll aside, and swing, carving a shallow gash in it's front left leg. More to aggravate it than anything else, but I don't see the tail whipping around until it's too late and-

Ow.

I pick myself up. Maybe broke a rib. Back's going to have some nice bruises tomorrow.

-It's pouncing again, and the only way out is-

- _Jump_ -

-And land on the creature's back. The monster bucks and thrashes and I grab a handful of stiff grey hair and hold on as long as I can...

Now. The viper-rat's back coils and ripples as it leaps again, and I take that momentum and borrow it and I leap, hurling myself into the air and landing on the rough pillar of stone.

My ankles do _not_ care for it.

This is no good (beast turning far, far too quickly to look at me). I've got it's attention (thundering up to my seat, it rears up) but I've got to do a lot better. It can take punishment (leap backwards as it comes crashing down, smashing the pillar into nothing), but one good hit on me and I'm dead (land on uneven ground, stumble backwards for five steps. It hurts. A lot). This won't-

Huh.

Now I can see it clearly, I notice something.

The beast is missing two claws on one paw.

Huh.

–

"But- we can't just _leave_ him!"

Azula grimaced, but didn't look back.

"Yes. We can. And that is _exactly_ what we are doing."

Zuko didn't like that. Azula didn't even have to look at him to know that Zuko didn't like that.

Next he was going to say 'we can't just _leave_ him!'.

"We can't just _leave_ him!"

Azula gritted her teeth. Yes, yes they _could_ just leave him, because if they just left him it would get _rid_ of him, and if they were _rid_ of him then maybe, just maybe, they could start to take control of their own lives again.

"He'll be fine. Come on, we've got to move."

Mother was slowing. This didn't look good.

Zuko had stopped entirely, and was starting to turn around. He was going to go back to help.

_NO._

"Zuko, _no_." Machinations aside, there was _no way_ she was going to let him get himself killed by some giant monster. Not after all this.

There was really only one way around this.

"Zuko, stay with Mother."

She couldn't believe she was about to do this.

–

This is no good.

I'm bleeding from a cut over the eye- chunk of flying rock nearly took my eye out, and would have if I hadn't turned with the blow- I'm bruised, I may have broken a rib or two, my ankles hurt, and I'm getting tired. Also my hair is in my eyes.

And in return? Well, I have certainly trimmed the hair on the beast's flanks. And that's all I can really say with any certainty.

It's times like these that I really wish I were a renowned spear master. Or bow master. Or anything with a range longer than three feet, essentially.

In other news, I have at least made it angry. This is not necessarily a good thing.

–

Rationalise.

Azula was good at rationalising. So, why was she rushing to the aid of the man who was- at his most favourable- a thorn in her side, and a complicating factor in any plans she would ever make, and at worst a man out to manipulate her and her family for his own ends, which almost certainly were not compatible with hers?

Well, for one thing, if she didn't do it, Zuko _would_ , and Zuko in harm's way was something she didn't want.

For another thing...

That was about it, actually.

…

–

I hear running.

I should not be hearing running.

I am trying to stay out of sight behind a partially destroyed wall. The idea is that since I appear to be hiding, the viper-rat may try and sneak up on me, and so be caught off guard long enough for me to jump out and stab it in the eyes. Risky, I know, but it's all I've got right now.

Except I hear running.

And I should not be hearing running.

And the breathing that has been creeping up on me from the other side of the wall is disturbed, and I can hear a massive diamond head lifting, intrigued by whoever is running.

This is an opportunity for me, and very bad for whoever is doing the running.

–

There they were. It was. No sign of Master Piandao.

Maybe she was too late.

The creature's head jerked around from the rubble it was investigating with frightening speed, and Azula began to wonder if this had been such a good idea after all.

No time for regrets, though.

And the beast was whirling around so fast it was nothing but a grey blur and it was bounding closing the space between her and it with horrific speed and she couldn't _move_ and this was-

A flutter of sliver, spiralling through the air, and the beast screamed and jerked it's head back, shaking and thrashing, trying to dislodge a dark shape on its back.

Azula inhaled. Her feet scraped the dirt, finding proper footing.

And she launched a stream of flame directly at the monster's neck.

–

I dropped my sword.

 _I dropped my sword_.

This looks bad. I can't hold on much-

There's a sudden spike in the temperature of the air. The world is tinted blue for a second.

And the viper-rat goes insane.

–

The creature felt _that_ , of that Azula was certain. It was bucking and thrashing and in places actually on fire and all Azula could think was _wow_.

Normally, she would have hated to be reduced to such incoherence, but the adrenaline was fizzing through her brain, and later she would forgive herself her monosyllables.

A dark shape hurtled through the air, rolling and twisting in midair until Master Piandao landed on his feet, wide eyed and frantic.

–

"What are you _doing?_ "

It's all I can think to ask, and I shouldn't have even done that because she's _stopping to answer_.

" _MOVE!_ "

–

Azula was shoved roughly to the side as the beast fell upon them, and span backwards, inches away from the viper-rat's claws.

Master Piandao was not so fortunate. The huge diamond head had knocked him into the air, and he slammed with terrible force into a rough outcrop of rubble.

He didn't get a chance to move before the monster was upon him.

–

Ow ow ow doesn't matter pain's just a distraction got to get _up_ got to

_Agh!_

Pressure on my chest can't breathe huge paw crushing down onto my ribs what's that creaking sound?

Got to- spots in front of my eyes- got to-

ow

–

Azula didn't hesitate for an instant.

She didn't know what it was- perhaps she felt she owed him for getting her out of the way, perhaps it was the fact that for now they both had to beat this thing, perhaps it was just the adrenaline influencing her- and perhaps it didn't matter.

Perhaps she just wanted to kill something.

Either way, she was leaping, running, inhaling deep, reaching deep into the core that marked her as one of Agni's chosen, and unleashing a blast of flame at the monster's exposed flanks.

The viper-rat screeched, a horrible keening noise, and scrabbled to meet her.

This time, there would be no distractions.

–

blink blink _inhale_ why does it hurt to breathe? That's not normal.

–

The animal charged, hissing and spitting, but Azula had it's measure, now, and it was simple to sidestep, evade, and counter with a lash of fire as the thing thundered past.

Really, it was just a matter of timing,

–

Oh.

Oh ho.

What's this, then?

_Guess what I fou-und._

–

This was tiring.

Azula huffed in frustration. It seemed that the thick scales of the viper-rat afforded it some measure of resistance to fire.

And here she was, with no resistance to giant venomous monsters.

This hardly seemed fair.

–

**Right.**

**This ends NOW.**

–

The beast paused, wary now, and Azula held her ground, staring down the beast.

You could have broken the silence with the drop of a pin.

Piandao broke it with a blood-curdling howl instead.

–

_**Come on, beastie! Let's see the colour of your insides!** _

–

Azula was flabbergasted. Not that she'd ever admit it, of course.

But really, the man ought to be unable to _walk_ , let alone-

Well, right now he appeared to be climbing the hindquarters of the viper-rat. He'd stabbed his sword into it as a kind of impromptu climbing spike.

Well, it seemed to be working.

–

**What's this? Blood?**

**Fantastic!**

–

Azula found herself reduced to a spectator as Piandao clambered over the back of the creature, merrily hacking away at whatever he could reach, refusing to be thrown off through what appeared to be more tenacity than any regard for the laws of physics, until he reached the neck.

–

**Haha! I need a new pair of boots anyway!**

**And perhaps a matching bag!**

–

And he lunged down, right into the nape of the beast's neck. But it still wasn't enough.

–

**Come on!**

–

So Azula did what she could.

And launched a fireball straight into the monster's gaping maw.

Piandao had time to jump clear, but Azula wasn't sure he was all there right now. Either way, he didn't take it.

But the monster was dead.

–

Wh...

Wha...

Wha?

Oh, my head hurts.

Oh look, the viper-rat is dead. Well, that's a plus. And Azula seems to be alive as well, and in possession of all her limbs.

Jolly good.

–

He was swaying in the breeze.

"...Master Piandao?"

"Hmm?" He looked up. "Ah, Princess Azula. You are unharmed?"

"Yes."

"Good. You did well. Shall- shall we be getting on?"

"I think that may be advisable, yes."

–

He didn't seem entirely right in the head. It was almost as if he had recently been concussed, or something.

Oh. Right. He had.

Well, that explained that.

–

The Lady Ursa seems a little out of sorts.

"Spirits, man, you're covered in blood!"

I looked down.

"Yes. I am. Some of it's not mine, you know."

And so we moved on.

–

As the sun set, I felt clearer in the head. Finally.

And it was time to part ways.

The guide sent was a young man, the manservant of the friend of the Order the Lady Ursa and family were to stay with.

"She calls herself Aunt Wu." I had informed the Lady. "She's sharp, but don't be surprised if she tries to read your palm. I find it's best to humour her."

"You don't have time for the supernatural, Master?" the Lady asked. I have the feeling she may be laughing at me, although I cannot fathom why.

"I am more impressed with the way the woman manages to phrase her predictions to be either uselessly vague, or entirely self-fulfilling. But she's a good person, and she's out of the way. You will not be disturbed there."

"And then what, Master?" she asked, pointedly.

"I shall return to you as quickly as I may, and then I shall advise you as best I can."

The conversation had petered out after Azula's eavesdropping became too conspicuous for me not to react to.

But now it was time to hand them over to the young man.

I nodded to him.

"I leave them in your hands... what's your name, son?" I hate calling people that, but it tends to set the tone of conversation rather well.

"Lee, Master." Of course. It's always Lee.

"Well, Lee, I trust them to you. Good luck."

With that, they moved off, walking into the tunnel that would lead them into the highlands.

But not before I had a final word.

"Lee," I told him, quiet enough to require privacy, but loud enough to be overheard by anyone listening in, "don't let them make you fight any lizards. It'll do your head no good."

–


	16. Beyond all Recognition

_Or,_

_ I am Immortal; I Have Inside me Blood of Kings. _

–

The inn is a picture of misery. Young men trying to drown their sorrows, too young to know that doesn't work, old men doing the same, too deep in despair to give a damn any more. A young woman- no, a teenage girl- with a child, despondently attempting to feed her infant. She's as thin as a rake, and seems barely conscious, one hand holding her head up, tangled in long black hair. A young man, and you can see the light in his eyes, the fire of absolute desperation. I've seen men like that. Either they do something extraordinary, screaming off into the world in pursuit of glory, or they die in a ditch.  The world turns on, either way.

I hate places like this. From the depths of my soul, I hate places like this.

–

It had been two full days since Omashu. So far Azula could find little to complain about.

Well, if she really _tried_ , she could find a great many things to complain about. But none of them were _new_ any more, and certainly none were unique to the past two days. Master Piandao was gone, at least for the time being, and his replacement seemed less inclined to attempt to manipulate them.

In fact she had yet to hear him offer more than three consecutive words.

 _Definitely_ an improvement.

But apart from that, they were now away from Omashu, and this morning the city had slipped out of sight entirely. Azula felt better about that, for some reason.

Zuko had kept looking back. It was like he couldn't get the place out of his head.

–

I try not to let the place get to me, as I sit down at the table (stiffly, so as not to aggravate my injuries any further) with my meal. Fish.

I like fish.

Think positively, that's the key.

–

Dusk was starting to fall. In another hour or so they would set up camp for the night, a process Azula casually loathed. Manual labour was simply... ugh.

But that was in the future. For now, Azula was seizing opportunity.

Zuko had taken to walking at the back of the group for the last two days, possibly all the better to contemplate whatever new melodrama he was indulging in. In the last few minutes, though, he had started to catch up with her.

It was about time she began to undo Master Piandao's manipulations.

Azula closed her eyes for the briefest of seconds as Zuko drew level with her, and used the precious moments to review how she would unfold the conversation.

Zuko, however, surprised her, by being the first to speak.

"Azula."

"Zuko." There was something restrained about his voice. A subtle change, but it made him sound... unfamiliar, somehow.

Azula was unsure how best to continue, but shook the feeling off. After all, he had only greeted her. It was no large matter.

Except he was usually very easy to read. The way he stood, held his head, spoke volumes. But today he was closed, shuttered. It was unnerving.

"Zuko..." it seemed as if he had something to say. Best that he get it out of the way first. "Is something troubling you?"

He didn't say 'yes', but then he didn't really have to.

"Azula, could I ask you for a favour?"

"Of course," she replied, after a breath's deliberation.

"Back at the canyon. Promise me you won't do anything like that again."

It took whole seconds for her to figure out what exactly he was talking about.

"If you're referring to the fight with that animal, I made the only logical decision."

"I don't care. I don't want you to do it again."

Indignation flared, but was swiftly overtaken by confusion.

"Why?"

"You ran off alone. You could have been hurt, Azula, and you told me to stay behind."

"Of course I did. Someone had to stay with Mother."

Zuko shuddered as if struck.

"I know. And that's why I stayed."

Azula was growing impatient.

"Zuko, if you have a point to make, please get to it."

He clenched his eyes shut for a second. "Azula, you scared me. I stayed because it was the right thing to do, and I wanted to make sure Mom was safe, but I don't want _you_ to get hurt, either. Please, don't- try not to put yourself in harm's way like that again."

Azula blinked.

Oh. Of course.

"Did Father talk to you?" she asked, quietly. It was still raw, still painful to even think about. She wondered if it would ever fade.

Zuko looked oddly at her.

"No. What does- no, never mind. Just promise me you won't run off alone again. Please."

Azula frowned.

"Very well. You have my word."

"Thanks," he said, quietly, and moved onward, overtaking Azula. She barely noticed.

Nothing about that conversation had made sense.

And what was worse was she couldn't define _why_.

She was looking after Mother and Zuko. That had been Father's last instruction to her. That was simple. It had never occurred to her that Zuko and mother might seek to look after _her_. In less serious times, the thought might have been ludicrous enough to be amusing. But it was such an alien concept that she could hardly fathom it.

Zuko sought to protect her. And he did so entirely of his own accord.

On one level, that made sense. After all, the three of them had nothing left but each other. But this was beyond that. He was looking to protect her even beyond what was, by his own admission, the right thing to do.

Azula shook her head. Dwelling on this was meaningless.

And she had lost a perfect opportunity to talk to Zuko.

There would be other opportunities.

–

I wish this bar were less crowded. Just a little.

For example, it would be nice if there were fewer people at the tables, since I am stuck sitting right near the bar, instead of near the back, by the wall, where I would be less obtrusive.

I am wishing this because the door has just been booted open, and about seven firebenders have burst into the building.

They look like trouble, every inch of them.

The entire bar is passively hostile to the soldiers from the second they walk in the door. Everyone, from the bartender to the teenage mother, reacts ever so slightly. Some look like they're preparing to fight. Hopefully, that can be avoided.

It would be a massacre. Seven trained firebenders. They're all grouped together, so they wouldn't have to worry about friendly fire. And not everyone here is a trained combatant.

I am not wearing my sword, but it's in the pack by my feet. I could draw without making myself obvious before the fact.

Could I close the gap between them? Not fast enough. Too many people in their line of fire.

I won't risk it. Just hope they don't recognise me.

And _really_ hope they're off duty.

–

Darkness had fallen. It was almost time to make camp.

Something hit Azula on the head. A _plink_.

And then it started to rain.

" _Wonderful_."

Wordlessly, Lee raised his hand, and pointed toward the woods.

There would be more shelter beneath the trees, it was true.

–

They're not off duty.

They're moving with far too much purpose for that. And they're all helmeted.

I'm trying to think of what they could be here for. You know, apart from me.

So far, I'm drawing blanks.

I sip my tea as they move towards me; two behind me, three in front. Yep, I'm the target. But it's no good getting flustered.

The captain stops suddenly in front of my table, and the bar goes quiet. I try not to slurp my tea. That would rather spoil the mood.

Suddenly, he leans heavily upon the table, nearly dislodging my meal.

" _Master_ ," he hisses, and for half a second I am terrified that I might know this man. But no, he was just using the honorific.

"Captain," I reply.

"You have to come with us now, Master," he sneers, mock-simpering, parodying what he thinks respect sounds like. I suddenly feel a lot better about what is going to happen next.

 

–

The hammering rain beneath the trees was intolerably loud, rattling as it knocked the leaves aside.

But it _was_ slightly drier.

Azula exhaled, and concentrated on radiating as much heat as she could. It took a lot of concentration, and she nearly tripped more than once (of course, she caught herself long before anyone could tell), but she soon felt a lot more comfortable.

–

"I don't suppose I could bring my things?" I asked.

" _No_."

Oh well, it didn't hurt to ask. But now I'm unarmed. Which means things are going to get rather ugly very quickly.

I didn't let them get a hold on me as I stood up, and walked to the door, making sure there was always something between me and the men behind me, who would have grabbed my arms if there had been the opportunity, but were too nervous to attempt overtly.

Sometimes it's useful to have a dangerous reputation.

The night air was brisk, and I breathed deep as I followed the Captain out into the night. He gestured, and two men flanked me, their fists trained lest I make a move, and I imagined the two behind me were doing the same. The Captain was flanked by the remaining two.

Hardly ideal, at least from my point of view. I shall have to wait for an opportunity.

The Captain looks smug as we head out into the courtyard. He thinks he's got me, and he may be right.

Perhaps I could grab him, and use him as a shield. Does he have a knife or some such on him? No. None of them have any blades at all.

Damnit, they _were_ looking for me. Our security is less than watertight, it seems.

Head in the game, Piandao. Worry about that later.

Human shield. No. He's too far away. Besides, there's no way I can cover myself against all six men.

There's no way I can kill them fast enough.

I miss my sword.

My eyes rove, checking for anything at all that I might be able to use. Too obvious. The Captain notices, and leers at me, halting the procession just as we hit the main track.

"Now, Master, you'd do well to calm down. There's a standing order on you, you know." Of course I know, probably a good deal better than you. "It says you're to be brought in alive, _if possible_. That gives me what you might call _flexibility_ , so I expect you to behave while you're in my company."

He's _gloating._ We're a good five miles from the barracks and he's _gloating_. For the second time, I find myself wondering how this man got promoted.

But still, it might be best to comply, for now. This man might actually follow through on his threat, and that would be good for nobody.

Then something unexpected happens.

The man to his right drops dead with a sigh.

Odd. But I'm not one to spurn opportunity.

I lunge for the Captain as he uncurls his arm (too slow), and snatch his hand as the man to his left is knocked to the ground by something.

I break his wrist. Then I break his nose. And then I break the rest of him.

It takes a good five seconds to put him down properly. By the time I turn around the rest of the men are dead.

And there is someone there who does not wish to be seen.

"Hello there."

There's a sigh in the dark, and the figure steps closer, until I can see them properly.

It's the girl from the bar. She's carrying her child in a kind of sling, supporting him with one hand. The other is full of steel.

"Hullo," she says, after a moment. I bow.

"I owe you a debt, miss..."

She ignores my angling for a name.

"Whatever." She surveys the dead with evident, if muted, satisfaction. "Well, that was fun. What did you do, anyway? Knock over a pastry shop?"

"I'm afraid I may have annoyed a few people back in the Fire Nation."

"Join the club."

"I did."

Hah.

"What?"

"Nothing important, Miss..."

Still no name. She turns to leave. Not back to the inn.

"Where are you headed?" I ask. She shrugs.

"No idea. Anyway, have a nice life, whoever you are."

She walks away, following the road East. Towards Gaoling, actually.

I make room in my memory for her and her child as I make my way back to the inn. I'll have to let the Gaoling cell know about her. They can clandestinely help her in many ways.

One favour deserves another, after all.

–

The rain was a cacophony. It hammered off her head and lashed her eyes and ricocheted around inside her brain and irritated her no end. That was why she, and presumably everyone else, eschewed conversation in favour of concentrating on walking.

It was also why she failed to notice the men waiting in the undergrowth until it was too late.

There were at least thirty of them, the detached core of Azula's brain told her even as she swung into a fighting stance.

Two stood out from the group. A man, who alone of the soldiers was not wearing a helmet, and a woman with shoulder-length brown hair, in civilian clothes. Azula couldn't be sure in this weather, but she thought the woman looked furious.

To her right, Zuko had already drawn his swords.

"My Lady!" the man shouted. "We have come to bring you home!"

Mother didn't reply.

"My Lady?"

"No. I have no reason to return. Go. Tell the Fire Lord I have nothing to say to him."

"My Lady..." The man sounded pained. "I cannot disobey my orders. The Fire Lord himself ordered you be brought home."

"Did you not hear me?" Mother demanded.

"I did, My Lady." He sounded downright apologetic now. "I am sorry, but my orders are clear."

He raised his hand. The men at his command readied themselves.

Azula breathed in, breathed out.

"If it's a fight you want, it's a fight you'll get!" Zuko snarled.

" _So be it_!" screeched the woman, and battle was joined.

–

Blue fire spat and crackled in her hand, fizzing and hissing in defiance of the weather. Had it not been raining, much of the undergrowth would be ablaze by now.

Azula snarled in frustration as she dodged another fireball, and launched her own in return. So far, she was able to do nothing but hold her ground in the centre of the battlefield.

Behind her, Lee was guarding Mother. It had surprised Azula slightly to find out that the man was an earthbender, but she was glad of it now.

To her right, Zuko was leaping, engaged in a moving battle with five men. She had to admit, he was doing better than she had thought he would, although he had yet to-

She jerked her head back, pulling herself out of the path of a plume of flame, but she didn't close her eyes in time, so for valuable seconds she was all but blind-

One of the men was down, and Zuko's blades were slick with a dark liquid.

One down, then-

Block, dissipate their fire, and return with her own-

Two down. She smirked in cold satisfaction as she turned toward Zuko. If they worked in tandem while Lee held the centre, then perhaps they could-

The woman appeared in Azula's field of vision, sparks flying from her fingertips, racing towards-

" _Zuko!_ "

 _Stupid_ , he turned towards Azula, confused by her shout.

The world flashed white.

The bolt caught Zuko in the chest, flinging his body through the air.

He was dead before he hit the ground.

–

No.

" _You LUNATIC!"_

No.

" _ZUKO!"_

No.

Azula dropped to a halt by his lifeless body, staring transfixed at the burned and twisted wreckage that had been his chest. At his golden eyes, registering no pain, nothing but wide-eyed surprise.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

" _Someone stop her!"_

This was not meant to happen.

" _Take care of your mother while I am gone. Your brother, too."_

Azula stood. She might have been crying. But then there might just have been the rain in her eyes.

" _Someone stop her!"_

Azula turned. The crazed woman was charging straight for her.

Azula took a deep breath.

Anger.

Well, she had anger to spare.

Sparks cracked on her fingertips, and she locked her eyes unerringly on her target.

And then something exploded, far away and right in front of her.

And then there was nothing but burning.

And the night swallowed Azula whole.


	17. Wake

_Or,_

_ No Colour Left But Black and White, and Soon We'll All Turn Grey. _

–

Kyoshi Island in the late Spring is something to behold, especially on a morning like this one, when the air is crisp and clear like broken glass, and the buildings stand with sharp edges and clean shadows and the deep green of the woods contrasts against the frivolous blue of the sky and everything just feels _new_ , unused, as though some mighty architect toiled and forged and made the island all in one night and everyone is just now arriving, breathing this air for the first time, seeing these sights that no one has ever laid eyes on before this day. There's life in the air on Kyoshi Island in the late Spring. Life and potential.

I wish I were seeing it under more peaceful circumstances.

I muse on this as I make my way up the main street. More than one head turns, but the village is a bustle of activity this morning, and no one stops for long.

It's an odd thought. Peace, I mean. It's not something I've really had much experience with.

I can't help but think that when (if) we finally achieve it, a great many people are going to be disappointed. Myself among them, perhaps.

Hah. I must be tired. My thoughts are getting away from me.

–

When I arrived at the town hall, I was ushered into a small antechamber, and was informed that High Chief Oyaji was in a meeting right now, but would be informed of my arrival right away.

I told them there was no need to disturb him on my account, and they seemed to accept that, as I settled (slowly, stiffly) onto a cushion, my head leaning back against the cool wood panelling of the wall.

If my guess is right, then no good could really come of my disrupting the meeting. And if I am wrong, there is still no real reason to interrupt them. After all, a few hours either way will not make much difference right now.

I closed my eyes, and dozed lightly. It had been a busy few days, and I had had little opportunity to sleep soundly.

–

Someone is hovering in the doorway. They blocked the light, and disrupted the breeze, and that was enough to wake me.

No matter how many times it saves my life, I fear I will never enjoy being a light sleeper.

"Master Piandao?" It was the woman who had met me when I entered the building. Probably a senior servant, or perhaps a secretary. She had the face of a born organiser. "The meeting has concluded now. Do you wish to present yourself to Chief Oyaji?"

I nodded, and stood.

"I believe that would be a good idea, yes."

–

"Master Piandao. It is a distinct pleasure to see you again."

I met with the Chief in his meeting room, which showed the signs of recent use. The chairs were haphazardly pushed under, and the table was dominated by a map of the island, and littered with several heavy scrolls.

The Chief himself looked like a man badly in need of a solid sixteen hours' sleep. Or, failing that, a large bottle of something toxic. Nevertheless, he wrenched himself up out of his chair and bowed.

I thought for one terrible moment that he was simply going to keel over onto the table, and was indeed already taking a step forward in order to assist him should he do so by the time he slowly, laboriously, pulled himself back into an approximation of an upright position, before seemingly deciding that he had done quite enough work for one day, and let gravity drop him backwards into his chair again.

"And to what...hmm...to what do I owe the honour of your company?" he asked, out of a valiant attempt at politeness.

"The flowers told me that you were in need of a friendly sword," I replied.

"Didi they now? Hmm. Well, they were right. I'm sure you know..." he paused again, and blinked heavily "quite as much about all this as I do, if not more." He looked up, suddenly. "Tell me, do you have anywhere to stay in the village?"

I was slightly nonplussed by the shift in conversation.

"I thought I might stay at the inn. I was comfortable enough last time."

Oyaji shook his head. "No. The inn's all full up. Talk to Kame out in the hall, tell her to show you to a guest room."

Kame?

Now why does that name seem familiar?

Never mind.

"Yes, you make yourself comfortable, give you a chance to freshen up, and after lunch we'll convene again, and... well, we'll see that we can see, I suppose. The demons of sleep are taunting me, and I shall have to appease them for at least two hours if I am to be good for anything this afternoon, I fear."

"We're all running ragged these days," I offered, his comrade in deprivation, although I at least had been able to snatch a few hours on the way to the island.

He snorted in cold amusement, and I left him to his repose.

–

There was a Kyoshi Warrior patrolling the corridor outside, and she fairly leapt to attention the instant she saw me.

"Sir?" she asked, wide eyed. For some reason.

"Would you be Kame?" I asked.

"Yes, Sir!" she exclaimed, and bowed at meteoric speeds. I bowed in response, and when we had both straightened up again, explained why I was here.

"I was informed you could show me to a guest room."

"Oh, certainly!" she replied, and I could see her straining to find a polite way to end the sentence.

"And please, call me Piandao." Nip this ridiculous 'Sir' business in the bud.

'Sir'. Anyone could tell you that's an Earth Kingdom title.

She didn't reply, which seemed slightly incongruous, given the nature of our conversation so far. She just stood, eyes progressively widening, for about three seconds.

"Oh!" And then she came to her senses, somewhat. "Certainly..."

She's having trouble with the name. It's a shade too familiar. I take pity on her, just a little.

"Master Piandao, if you prefer."

I try not to hear her sigh of relief. "Of course, Master Piandao. Right this way."

–

She led me upstairs, and showed me a pleasingly (if simply) decorated room.

I laid my pack on the floor, and wondered if there was a bath anywhere.

I turned to the door.

The girl was still standing there. Staring at me.

Really, it was a little unsettling.

"Excuse me," I asked "is there anywhere I might take a bath?"

She blinked.

"Oh! I- I assume so, but I'm afraid I don't know this floor very well." She sounded hopelessly apologetic. "I'm not normally on guard duty here, no one is, except a few months ago they found these two dead guys out in the forest and they looked like firebenders and they had swords so everyone thought they might be spies or assassins so we got told to guard the Chief and I've been injured for a while so I only just got put on this duty," she explained. I was rather impressed. She didn't stop for breath once.

"That's quite alright. I am certain I can find my way."

"Oh- okay then. Is there anything else you wanted?"

"No, thank you. Although you shall be the first I notify if there ever is."

"Okay then." She bowed, and I did the same, and when I straightened up again she had left.

What an odd girl.

–

Blue is not my colour.

But, on the other hand, my Earth Kingdom wear was getting a little ripe, and it would have been a shame to waste the bath I had had by putting my unclean clothes back on.

But still, blue is not my colour.

–

I had been informed by the organiser woman (I am fairly certain that she must be the Chief's secretary, in duties if not in title) when I took my lunch that I had been invited to attend a meeting with the Chief in half an hour.

So here I was. About to join the council of war.

It struck me the instant I stepped through the sliding door that I was clearly running somewhat late- every seat but one was filled.

"Ah, Master Piandao. I'm glad you could make it," the Chief declares.

The Chief was there, of course, in his chair. I wonder if he managed to leave it for a bed since I saw him last. It doesn't look like he even got to a more comfortable chair. Immediately to his right is the Commander of the Kyoshi Warriors- I forget her name. To his left was a stocky man I didn't recognise, decked out in the subtle finery of a Water Tribes Chief. To _his_ left was...

I grinned, and acknowledged the last man with a nod as I sat down next to the Commander. He simply smirked back.

"Well, it seems introductions are in order," Chief Oyaji declared. "You have already met Commander Suki, I believe. And to my right, may I present Chief Hakoda, of the Southern Water Tribes."

Hakoda nodded.

"It is an honour to meet you, Chief Hakoda."

"Likewise, Master Piandao," he replied.  He didn't mean it.

"And this is Master Pakku, the most renowned Waterbending Master in the entire Northern Hemisphere."

He stood, and bowed, exaggeratedly.

"What an _honour_ it is to make your acquaintance at long last, _Master_ Piandao."

"Yes, quite," I replied, declining to stand, dismissively waving my hand.

"Indeed, now we have a man with three feet of steel at our side, I'm sure the Fire Nation will simply scamper back to the pits that spawned them."

"Well, whatever skills I posses simply _pale_ in comparison to your ability to make them damp. I have it on good authority that in the battle of Narwhal Island, you single-handedly caused at _least_ a dozen soldiers to catch colds from being out in soaked clothes too long. Just a shame they were on our side, really. But of course, I'm sure your aim has happily improved with your advancing age."

"Really, you of all people know you shouldn't believe everything you hear. Or was it a _different_ Master Piandao that spent over half a year chasing up a rumour that the Fire Lord had gone on a retreat somewhere in the Earth Kingdom, and had descended into some drug-addled spirit quest?"

"Be that as it may, I am known for fighting and defeating some of the most powerful warriors in the world, whereas you... are a master at making people wet."

"That's what _she_ called me."

The other people are paralysed. I can see the Commander out of the corner of her eye- she keeps looking at my sword hand. Evidently she's wondering if I'm about to leap across the table and decapitate the old man.

To spare her nerves, and get this meeting back on track, I leant across her, and stage-whispered at Oyaji.

"It's alright. We've met already."

He relaxes a little, and Pakku looks momentarily disappointed.

Pakku is liable to indulge his love of back-and-forth for hours, if we let him. Best to cut it off in the bud.

"I hate to interrupt," Chief Hakoda blatantly lies "but perhaps it would be best to get on with this?"

Well, I suppose it's for the best that I got my good humour out of my system early on.

This is going to be rather grim.

–

There's no way of looking at the numbers that magically gets them to inspire confidence.

Under one hundred Kyoshi Warriors over all. Barely a hundred men from the Southern Water Tribes. Fifty Northern waterbenders. Another hundred volunteers from among the refugees- Oyaji only accepted those who had already had military experience. And me. That's it. Less than four hundred against twenty laden ironclads and the Coiling Dragon.

The waterbenders are the most promising. After all, they are, as Pakku proudly declared, his _best_ , and coming from him, that means a great deal.

But only seven of them are healers. That isn't enough. Not at all.

But we'll have to work with what we've got. No reinforcements from the mainland could get here in time, not without being caught by mainland peacekeepers.

So. This will require some thought.

"Earthbenders," I declare, breaking the gloomy silence that had settled around the table. "How many earthbenders?"

Oyaji shakes his head.

"Not many. You know how hard it is for them to move around. Maybe fifteen, all told, all of them refugees."

Yes, I know. Earthbending is technically a crime, unless it's done in service of the Fire Nation. So unless they escape to the mountains (and a great many do), most earthbenders try to hide their talents, or get dragged away. They're usually not seen again.

Kyoshi Island is possibly unique in that it has never produced a single bender since it was created. No one knows for sure why,- certainly the village, before Avatar Kyoshi moved it, was never recorded to be abnormal in that regard- but the fact remains.

It's a damn shame, really. We could have used a decent squad of earthbenders.

–

The meeting adjourned. It had given me a great deal to think about, and I hoped to be able to present more concrete ideas when we met again tomorrow. For now, I needed to think.

–

The next morning...

The next morning was busy.

Oyaji had ordered that all the villages be evacuated, and that everyone was to take everything they could, as they would not be allowed to return until after Zhao's fleet had been vanquished, a feat Oyaji had referred to as already effectively accomplished when making his speech.

A more truthful order might have been to tell them to take with them anything they ever wanted to see again. But then I'm sure most people took it as that anyway.

So the morning was engaged in carrying sacks of rice up into the mountain caves. I enjoyed the work- it meant nobody tried to talk to me, except to tell me where the next sack of rice was to be stored, and that meant I was free to think.

First things first. Assets and liabilities. Our assets? We know the terrain. We have prior access to the battlefield. We have the waterbenders. We have the Kyoshi Warriors.

Our greatest asset is going to be the healers, probab-

Hmm.

Actually, our greatest asset is almost certainly Admiral Zhao.

Huh.

Liabilities?

Well, the fact that we're outnumbered at _least_ five-to-one certainly doesn't help matters much.

Then there's the fact that while we do indeed have the Kyoshi Warriors, these are the new generation of Kyoshi Warriors, owing to the inconvenient fact that the last generation had to inconsiderately go and get themselves slaughtered eight years ago, so this new generation is, while extremely highly trained, sorely lacking in practical experience in anything more than the infrequent skirmish, and very, very young.

That, I _do not_ like. A good third of our forces are under the age of eighteen.

Yes, it's safe to say that I do not like that at all.

Then there's the fact that we have _seven_ dedicated healers. We need to draft in anyone with medical training of _any_ kind to assist them. Certainly, that's more of a post-battle concern, really, but I'm not in the business of inflicting maximum possible casualties on my own side.

Any others?

Well, if we're going for completeness, Chief Hakoda appears to loathe the sight of me. Nothing he said, but he scowled yesterday whenever I had something to say, and he tried not too look at me too often. When he did, it was as though I had just insulted his wife, screamed threats and slurs at his mother, and kicked his dog.

Is that really a problem, though? It depends. I don't know the Chief. I don't know whether or not he will let his dislike of what I represent (and he has good reason- I have fought and killed his people, after all, even if it was easily fifteen years ago now) affect his judgement on the battlefield.

So I can't rely on him, and by extension I cannot rely on his men.

So yes, this is a problem. Hopefully one I can resolve before Zhao arrives, though.

What else?

Hmm.

–

I had mail.

The man in the grocer's shop had given the letters to me as we were clearing out his stock for supplies. I gave him a receipt for his inventory in return. Oyaji would reimburse him after the battle was over. If we won, of course. If not, all debts are off. As it were.

Anyway, I have letters. I'm wondering if I should read them before the meeting.

If I don't, I shall probably wonder what they say all the way through the meeting. If I do, then I might think about them all the way through the meeting.

It depends on how important the information turns out to be, really.

I'll read them. Probably just some status updates, really. I have been out of the loop for a while now.

The first three were, indeed, a summary of recent events, from Captain Yung (who really should have promoted himself by this point, but maybe he enjoys being the only Captain in history in command of a Company of twenty thousand men), from Jeong-Jeong, and from our man in the Exile Court. Nothing spectacular. Some operations succeeded. Some failed. Small skirmishes here and there, mainly to keep the Fire Nation occupied, remind them that there's still a rebellion on, but small enough that it doesn't tie up too many men and resources. We'll need a great deal of both when the Eclipse gets here.

And then I read the last letter.

 

–

_Regarding our instructions for the Lady and company, we sent a party to search when they failed to arrive at our village on schedule._

_What follows is a record of what they found._

_'Twenty miles into the forest, on the path, we came across a clearing. In it, there were what looked like a series of funeral pyres- burnt bodies, like they do in the Fire Nation, I think, all built on raised earth and stones. Most of them seemed to be soldiers, but we couldn't be sure- several had been burnt entirely beyond recognition- one of these seemed to be female, but we couldn't say for sure. There was one, though, that we think we can identify._

_Based on the description we were given of height, along with a few effects that survived the fire, it appears that Crown Prince Zuko has been killed, presumably in an altercation with Fire Nation soldiers._

_Of the Lady Ursa and Princess Azula, as well as their guide, there was no sign. The storm had obliterated any tracks.'_

_We await further instruction._

–

"Oh shit."

–

There's a knock on the door.

"Master Piandao? Master Piandao, the meeting has started." I recognise the voice, vaguely.

"Tell them... tell them I shall be down presently."

That satisfies the familiar voice, and footsteps are heard, heading away from me.

So.

What now.

'What now'. What a joke. The plan is dead.

And the Fire Nation dies with it.


	18. Five Days

_Or,_

_ No-One Else Here Will Save You. _

–

"Ah, Master Piandao! …Is something wrong?"

Chief Oyaji. Sharper than he looks.

It takes me whole seconds to reply.

"...Nothing... nothing pertaining to our current situation, Chief," I manage to tell him. Truthfully.

Kyoshi Island's survival doesn't hinge on the plan.

The Chief seems mollified by this, and resumes the meeting once I have taken my seat. Pakku, though, is giving me curious looks.

I suppose I shall have to tell him, soon.

I turn my head sharply to the map on the table. Oyaji had asked me a question. He wanted to know if I had any information on the position of Zhao's fleet.

Hmm? ...Actually, now that I thought about it, there had been something, hadn't there? In the other letter. Something about... refuelling.

Oh yes. I remember

"Zhao's fleet was forced to stop and resupply at the Southern waystation, on Whale Tail Island. According to information I received, there was an altercation with the Governer on the island, which kept Zhao occupied for some days before he simply killed the man and ordered his troops to requisition whatever they needed by force. This order caused some... discomfort among his ranks."

Pakku waved his hand, dismissively.

"Spare us the narrative, Piandao. Get to the point."

I blinked.

"Twenty men were killed in an attempt to leave Zhao's armada, following an altercation with the locals on the Island. More men escaped, and deserted the Admiral, taking one of the ships with them. It's not confirmed how many men deserted, but it was enough to man an ironclad at full capacity. Zhao ordered two ships after them. So, the point is, Zhao now commands a fleet that is three ships smaller than previously noted."

There's a positive murmur rippling around the table, but there are questions.

"Why were the men seeking to leave his fleet at this late stage?" Hakoda asks.

"I'm sorry," I reply, harsher than I meant to, "I was told to spare you the narrative."

"And how long will Zhao take to arrive?" Commander Suki inquired, interrupting with expert precision. I gave it some thought, based on the numbers the Captain had given me when we last spoke.

"Call it five days."

Chief Hakoda abruptly sat forward, suspicion crackling behind his eyes.

"Tell me, Master Piandao, would you care to tell us exactly _how_ you came by this information?"

I kept a level eye as I answered him.

"No."

Too blunt, Piandao. _Control_ yourself, man.

"No, Chief Hakoda, I make a point of never discussing my sources. If the wrong person hears, people die. If the man hiding outside the window overhears one solitary slip of the tongue, more people than are in your entire damn _tribe_ die."

That's... not control, Piandao.

I'm dimly aware of a moment of increasingly awkward silence.

The Commander breaks it.

"...What man hiding outside the window?"

"I don't know," I replied, sourly. "Isn't there one? He'll be hiding in the rafters, then."

 _Damnit, Piandao, you are not a child. You cannot take out your frustrations on everyone else_.

Before I can get a proper grip on myself, it seems Pakku's limited patience has snapped.

"What has gotten into you, Piandao?" he barks, and I look him in the eye.

I suppose I shall have to tell him. It won't mean anything to the others at the table, anyway.

"You know Zuko?"

"...No."

"Ursa's boy?"

"...Oh, yes. What of him?"

"He's dead. The Fire Nation killed him."

"...Son of a _bitch_. -But that means-"

"Yes."

"But _that_ means-"

" _Yes_."

"Oh."

"Quite."

He sighs.

"I'm sorry, Piandao."

"It was not your mistakes that killed the boy, Pakku."

He doesn't answer that.

I turn my head slightly to look at the three who sat, mystified by the suddenly derailed conversation.

Oddly, it was Hakoda who eventually broke the silence.

"...Who was Zuko?"

I took a steady breath.

"No one important."

–

The meeting finally gets on track. I take little part in it, merely shunting ideas around as subtly as I can manage. Anything suggested by Chief Hakoda (who opens up considerably the instant I stop talking) I leave well alone.

It's just as well, really. The Chief soon proves to have a powerfully creative mind. Although a little tactically reckless, a trait I hope I managed to temper somewhat.

Slowly, painstakingly, a battle plan is assembled, piece by piece. If we're lucky, some of us might survive it.

I do not like the plan much. Oh, it's tactically viable, and makes the best possible use of our limited resources, but there's one sticking point with me that I don't voice.

I don't like the part where we hurl teenage girls onto a battlefield all that much. It's not like we have time or resources to indulge my qualms, though.

Besides, what's a dozen dead children more or less?

–

It is the second day.

Commander Suki walks like she is drowning.

I notice it more and more the longer I am in her presence, and it's making me uneasy. There's no softness, no capitulation in her movements- all harshness, striding, swinging her arms as if she meant to bat the air aside, treating it as an impediment. I would be hard-pressed to tell you why, but it's profoundly depressing.

You can tell a lot by the way a person walks.

She has found no balance, yet. Of course, that is to be expected- she is, after all, still very young, and it's rare to find a teenager with that kind of inner poise.

That fact alone serves to make it worse.  She isn't _ready_ , not for the duties she has been given.  Nobody is, at that age.

And, of course, there's absolutely nothing I can do about it but observe. Interfering with the structure of authority on the island would be seen as meddling at best, and greeted with outright hostility at worst, and I don't know her well enough to try and help on a personal level. I'm just here to observe, and then leave again.

So I don't exactly relish the time I spend in the Commander's company. But she had something she wanted to show me.

She led me to a small-ish shed, much more crude and unsightly than the rest of the village, slouching near the training circle where, presumably, the Kyoshi Warriors honed their skills. When she unlocked the building, I understood what purpose it served.

I coughed, politely.

"You _do_ realise I already have a sword?" She's showing me the armoury.

"Yes, but I thought you might like to have a look. We have several suits of armour, if you'd like." She's projecting a forceful and professional attitude. I'd say the odds of her putting it on for my benefit are high.

I bow, and thank her, before stepping into the dingy shed. I suppose there might be something I could use in here.

There's less dust than I would have expected. But then, of course, there were the refugees who were fighting. They would have to have been armed, of course.

As I examined the shelves, I was struck by the various pieces of Fire Nation armour there were, scattered amongst the Earth Kingdom equipment. Much of it looked usable, too. But then, the Kyoshi Warriors are trained to aim for weak points such as joints, so the majority of the armour would be still in reasonable condition.

I've never liked armour. Haven't worn it since I left the army. I always felt it was better to avoid being hit in the first place. However, in a large-scale protracted mêlée, that is simply an impossible standard to meet. We all need a thicker skin nowadays.

So I suppose a suit of armour might be useful. None of these, though.

Earthbender armour. No, I would prefer to have some shoes, and the loose sleeves aren't something I look for in my armour.. Besides, the hat doesn't suit me.

Firebender armour. …No, I don't think so. It's well made, but too heavy for me. Far too constricting.

Kyoshi Warrior armour. It's just not _me_ , somehow.

...Hello? What's this?

I pulled the chest from the high shelf. It was amongst the other suits of armour, so...

I opened it, and pulled out a work of art.

The armour was made of layered strips of steel, held together with leather, and lacquered. The treatment left the metal a deep, wine red, and the shoulder guards and other extremities were trimmed with burnished bronze. The under-clothes were black, and form-fitting.

I had a suit like this, once.

The suit had obviously been sitting in the chest for some years now, and I wondered where they had gotten it from. I doubt there's anyone left to ask, though.

Still, a few hours with polish and a wire brush, and this thing would look almost new again.

I hope it fits.

–

The armour pinched and constricted in familiar ways. It distributed its weight well, but I would still need hours of practice before I was confident. Perhaps I could get a start on that now.

I walked out into the Spring afternoon, and was greeted with a small crowd. Five or so Kyoshi Warriors- I recognised one or two- were hovering at the training grounds. I wonder why.

I bowed to the Commander, and inquired as to if she knew of a place I could train.

"Well, our training grounds are right here," she replied, gesturing vaguely with her hand. She and her cohorts made no move to leave.

Ah. I see.

Very well, then.

"Thank you," I replied, and bowed again, before moving into the ring.

Honestly, does no one ever stop to consider that I prefer not to train in front of an audience? It borders on rude.

–

My sword rested in the scabbard- resting on my hip, rather than my back. I drew, and admired the afternoon sunlight glinting in the blade. It was rather pretty.

Then I raised my weapon into a stance, and dragged myself through some basic movements. I had to get a feel for how the armour restricted me first.

I couldn't twist at the waist unimpeded any more, and likewise raising my arms too high was a little awkward. A fair trade for added protection, I thought.

But when I began more complex movements, I found these restrictions weighing me down more and more, and I wasn't compensating enough to allow for them. Damned muscle memory.

The finishing point was when I sprang, leaping and twisting through one hundred and eighty degrees, intending to land facing the opposite way to when I leapt.

I landed heavily, kicking up dust, instinctively crouching to absorb the landing, and have to place my free hand on the ground to stop myself from falling.

Unacceptable. Completely unacceptable.

I would have to practice that.

But first there was a sound of footsteps and drawing steel to attend to, as Commander Suki steps into the ring.

Well, that was always going to happen.

–

She fights well. I try not to think too hard about that- the unexpected find in this suit of armour had lifted my spirits- reminded me of happier times- and I did not want to sink back into my former black mood.

It was easy enough to focus on combat, though, which (if you will forgive a moment of vanity) was testament enough to the Commander's skills.

She did tend to favour speed and precision over power, though, and eventually I showed her as much, simply ignoring one of her strikes and barrelling into her, knocking her to the ground.

Normally, I would have been a little more precise, but I was trying to point out a possible weakness in her technique.

She learned quickly, and raised her hand the second she was on her feet.

That was apparently the signal for her four cohorts to attack me from behind.

 _Now_ things were a little more interesting. If I had been fighting normally- fighting to win- I would have kept mobile, hitting hard and fast, overwhelming their defences. But I wasn't- now that I was more used to the feel of the armour, remembering the heft and weight of it, I took the opportunity to teach, adopting an archetypical Fire Nation stance, all controlled strength. Ironically, I do not have the body type to become a true master of this style- I'm too tall, and naturally lean- but a master of the Fire Nation sword styles is truly something to behold- it's like watching a battleship stand upright and dance.

But I was passable, and it was unlikely that any of those old masters were aboard Zhao's fleet- we kept tabs on most of them, just in case. I do _not_ want to find myself in a duel with one of those men.

So I was a good enough training dummy.

I saw the blade, swinging in at eye level. I could have dodged, if I had adjusted to a Water Tribe stance. But that would never occur to a Fire Nation trained swordsman, so the most I allowed myself to do was stumble clumsily backward, and turn with the blow (rather more precisely than I had intended to, actually, but I am not perfect), and open up a long, shallow gash on my forehead, bisecting my right eyebrow at a shallow angle.

The Warrior who inflicted the blow draws back, instantly and instinctively apologetic.

Bad move.

My blade smashes down on her sword, knocking it out of her hand, and I take two steps forward, bringing the tip of my sword up to her throat.

That signifies the end of practice, and I hear the Warriors behind me relax.

The Warrior who had struck me was vaguely familiar. I mentally snapped my fingers for a few seconds, until touched on a name.

Kame. That was it.

I give some generic words of encouragement, and slightly more useful words of advice, as they left. Hopefully the Commander would manage to spread my explanation of the weaknesses of Fire Nation blade forms to the Warriors who had been otherwise engaged today.

I stopped Kame with a hand to her shoulder. My left hand was occupied with pressing a damp towel to my forehead.

"Oh! Master?" she asked, twitchy as ever.

"If you are going to react like that every time you inflict a wound, perhaps you would be better occupied amongst the healers," I told her, in a low voice.

I was deadly serious. Anyone who might freeze up in the heat of battle was nothing more than a liability. The very _best_ they could do was get themselves killed.

I'm worried that she'll take this as an insult. Or worse, a challenge.

"-Master, I- I was just worried that-" of course she was.

She's been in skirmishes before (I have a list, somewhere, of all the battles the Kyoshi Warriors have been involved in in the last three years). It's unlikely that she'll panic when fighting for real. Not like that, anyway. It was my presence that intimidated her, that's all.

I sigh, internally, giving up.

"Kame, you fought well today. You're a good soldier."

Her eyes grow huge, and shining.

"Thank you, Master!" she exclaims, and bows.

Of course. She _would_ take it as a compliment.

She would have been safer amongst the medics, perhaps. But there's little more I can do. Oh well, never mind. I tried.

–

On the third day, I went to visit the men of the Southern Water Tribe.

The armour was almost comfortable, now. I wore it all day, and slept in it as well. The only time it came off was when I bathed, and then I cleaned it before donning it once more.

So that was good.

Anyway. I was walking to the Northern village, to inspect (although I only called it that in my head) the warriors of the South. Chief Hakoda was with me.

Needless to say, it wasn't the most comfortable of walks.

Suddenly, he speaks, for the first time. Even when I had met with him this morning, he had done nothing but nod.

"Who was Zuko?"

I sigh, audibly.

"Nobody you need to worry about."

The man is insistent.

"Who was Zuko?"

I turn my head.

"Why do you want to know?"

He considers his answer for a moment.

"I don't like you, Piandao. Honestly, I'm not naturally inclined to extend the hand of friendship to anyone in the Fire Nation."

"I noticed."

"So I want to know what's rattled you. In case we end up fighting to the death, and it's something I can use."

That startled a laugh out of me, but it was almost certainly a lie.

Well, I can just give him a vague and unhelpful answer in return, then.

"Zuko was a sixteen-year old boy. He had lost a father, due in equal part to my own meddling, and the wrath of the Fire Lord. He, his mother, and his sister tried to escape the Fire Nation, and I tried to help them. Except I left them in the middle of the wilderness while I rushed to Kyoshi Island, after I found out Zhao was on the way here. Agents of the Fire Lord caught up with them, and killed him. His sister and mother are likely dead, or imprisoned."

Hakoda is quiet for a while.

"I see."

–

I spent most of the day observing the warriors of the Southern Water Tribe. Their Chief followed me often, but did not say another word to me for the duration of my visit.

I observed their habits, and their training. They detested me, and took no great pains to conceal that fact, but that did not bother me- I had expected nothing less, of course. But to their credit, they for the most part ignored me, and continued with their day.

My observations confirmed what I had hoped- these men were hardened warriors all. Not _soldiers-_ the word ill-fitted them- but they did not want for discipline. I noted them during combat training, and was reminded why back home we call these people savages. They moved less like a rabble of brawlers, as one might suspect from their ramshackle appearance, and not even like a formation of drilled soldiers. They were like a pack of hunting animals.

I would not wish to be the man they were loosed upon.

But, of course, there were downsides. They were undisciplined outside of combat. They drank. They paid little heed to their diet- in fact most overate. Growing up in a frozen wasteland, they would be used to eating what they could get, which explained this trait somewhat. They brawled.

A far cry from the reserve and rigorous self-regulation of the Fire Nation armed forces. But the camaraderie between them was evident.

I sparred with them in the afternoon. Hakoda's second- a man tall enough to see eye-to-eye with me, and quietly reserved in comparison to his fellows- suggested it, and I was happy enough to agree.

I stuck out; there was no getting around that. The warriors were used to fighting side-by-side with each other, and it showed. None were particularly willing to allow me into the loop.

So I played the antagonist, for the most part. Again. It was interesting, and useful.

It made them wary of me, though, afterwards. Which was a shame. Still, the visit had been fruitful enough.

–

The fourth day. I met with Pakku, and the members of the Order who lived on the island.

I had been dreading this meeting, the knowledge lurking in the back of my mind all week. I had ignored it, until now, focusing instead on the immediacies, and, when that didn't work, wearing myself out, training until I could barely stand.

But it was here, now. And I had to give the order.

I cleared my throat.

"Ozai's son is dead, slain by the Fire Nation." And, indirectly, by me. "Ozai's daughter has vanished, or died. The direct line is broken."

There are always lesser relatives, it is true. None showed promise, and none have been groomed as replacements- it was an uphill struggle to get my additions to the plan approved in the first place- too much anger, too much bitterness, too much pragmatism. Now it is clear that my schemes have failed, and we have only one course of action open to us. No one is willing to wait any longer while we try to find the next heir, not with the Comet nearly upon us again.

"By my authority as Acting Grand Lotus, we are to revert to Jeong-Jeong's plan." I force each word from between my teeth, and fight to keep myself talking.

The Fire Nation failed Jeong-Jeong long ago. He no longer has faith that any good can come of it remaining a power. I disagreed, but that does not matter any more.

The Fire Nation will be broken. Iroh will die, and his court will splinter. Feudalism will return to the island. Perhaps the war will turn the country against itself. Perhaps trade will simply break down. Maybe there will be famine.

It doesn't matter, in the end. One way or another, the Fire Nation is going to die.

"Ensure that this message is coded, and sent to Jeong-Jeong, the Exile Court, and Captain Yung. Afterwards, you should all leave for the mountain. Dismissed."

–

On the fifth day, it rained black.


	19. Fall

_Or,_

_ A Soldier Dies But Once. _

–

I sit in the darkness, and wait.

There's one candle, trying its best, in spite of the odds.

I sit, and I wait. And I listen.

Nothing yet.

The air is stale, and I try not to breathe too heavily, lest it become unpleasant. The twenty others in the hastily-constructed (and I thanked the Spirits that we had some earthbenders amongst us) cellar make no sign of movement. Whatever they may be thinking, it does not show on their faces.

And-

Is that-

...Ah, yes. The tramp of armoured feet up the path from the shore.

They are coming.

In spite of myself, I am nervous. I have not participated in a protracted battle in almost two years (we lost that one). (Don't think about that.)

I can't think any more because the heavy footfalls of easily two hundred men are puncturing the silence, a sound of rhythmic thunder, hammering down on the island, getting louder and clearer and I look up and around me my warriors (charges) are one by one losing their stoic façade, and I begin to see an inkling of fear in their eyes. They had been confident, when their Commander had dictated the plan to them. Even when they heard the odds, they had remained in good spirits. Even when I told them that the first wave would likely be at least two hundred, outnumbering us more than two to one, and mostly firebenders. They had been sure of themselves, and their skills.

It's very different when 'two hundred men' is no longer an abstraction, but in fact less than thirty feet away, the constant implacable rhythm of footsteps a threat, and a promise. Blood will flow this day, the footsteps tell everything and everyone. Blood will flow. It's far too late to turn back. One hundred years too late.

I see the fear in each and every eye. Stronger in the youngest, as a rule, but none are exempt, even the grizzled old earthbender. They're all listening to the footfalls, visualising the man marching up into their home and moving closer and closer and then. they.

Stop.

A pause. Someone starts to shake, to my right. Unconsciously, I reach out and place my hand upon their shoulder, just for a second. I don't know who it is- they don't turn to look at me- but they exhale slowly, and seem to calm themselves a little. I like to think I helped, if only by distracting them.

And then the roar of flames is heard. Muffled by the ceiling of earth between us and the world, but there's no masking what is happening.

Zhao told them to expect an ambush- he is not so stupid as to ignore what happened when his men tried to take the Avatar from here- so they are doing what any sensible captain would order them to do. They are burning the village to the ground.

The effect on the Warriors is immediate. Some close their eyes- either in acceptance of what is happening or a vain attempt to block it out. Some move suddenly, as though they meant to leave through a door that wasn't there yet. The earthbender looks over to me, and I shake my head.

Not yet. To move now would be suicide.

We've got a minute to go.

Those sixty seconds stretch, dragging out, the gaps between every thump of my heart seeming to elongate, as my eyes roll around the room, flicking from face to face, committing each to memory.

Thirty seconds left. I stand.

_The flames have calmed, a muted crackle instead of a roar._

Twenty seconds. I draw my sword. That seems to be the cue for everyone to ready their weapons.

_The tiny room is suddenly filled with blades and steel fans._

Ten seconds. I speak, breaking the silence that has descended upon the group ever since we were sealed in this tomb.

" _You all know what you are fighting for. Hold on to it. Good luck, and don't panic."_

No time for anything longer, no time to think up anything more elegant. Five seconds. I nod at the earthbender.

_He nods back, and we part as much as we can, leaving him sufficient room to move._

Three seconds.

_A wall collapses into a staircase, and dull light blares through a hole in the roof._

Two seconds.

_I take the first step, readying myself._

One second.

_I charge._

–

And I lead my warriors up into the daylight.

Up into a little slice of Hell.

–

The smoke is almost a solid presence. The wind is low, so it simply climbs, a growing tower, looming above what was once the village like some barbaric god.

Chaos is laid at his feet.

I have ample fractions of a second to analyse the battlefield before I am distracted by a man trying to skewer me.

_The spear is inches from my face, so close I can feel the wind displaced as it lunges, hungry, for my neck._

They have been caught off guard by the ambush. Clearly, they thought that we would be hiding in the woods, not in hastily-constructed cellars beneath the village, and a hundred warriors spat out of the ground had disconcerted them somewhat.

_Ashes float down from the smoke, white- and red-hot embers, flakes of ash, like burning snow. It's almost beautiful._

I turn my head, avoiding the weapon, and my sword splits the haft of his spear, before relieving him of several fingers. He doesn't go down until I flick my blade as I rush past him, tearing his throat open.

But these men are professionals, holding together, and holding fast in the centre of the road.

A Warrior goes down in front of me.

_Aflame but not quite dead yet, screaming in pain as her skin flays and peels away and blackens even as she is falling._

No time to stop. All I can do is disembowel the man who did it, and run on again.

Seventeen seconds have passed, and the shock of our ambush is fading fast.

I twist, ignoring a clumsy sword strike- it lands on my shoulder-blade, but lacks power, and the armour takes the blow easily. Almost absently I remove the man's right leg at the knee.

And I stop. The brawl swirls around me like a red storm, but for two halves of a second I stop still, and wait.

__Above, beyond the thick, warm smoke, the slate-grey sky hangs limp like a dead thing. The air is polluted with smoke and fire and screams and dancing embers, and below on the ground the battle swirls. Warriors move like water amongst the armoured shapes, evading and countering and fighting and dying. The Fire Nation have learned to show these fighters no mercy now._ _

Where is it? I know it must be beginning now.

Where?

There.

I run towards where the firebenders are gathering around their Captain (I must have missed him giving the order, either that or he had it set up already as a contingency plan in case of ambush), massing their strength away from the main battle- towards the shore- ready to counter-attack. Not if I have anything to do with it.

_I run, ducking and weaving and barging my way through the scrum, never stopping, my blade flying, seeking out the red-clad warriors, not caring if I struck them down or not. No time to stop. I force myself to run on, no matter what. No matter who might have needed my help. Every second is vital._

In a normal situation, I would have ducked behind the ruins of a house, taken a less obvious route. Through the battlefield is dangerous, and leaves me exposed.

Plus, they know I'm coming.

This isn't a normal situation, though. I _want_ to be noticed. It will draw undue attention to one point (me). Disrupt and distract is the idea.

_Every man trying to kill me is one man not trying to kill anyone else._

Provided, of course, that I can take it.

_I can take it. I have to take it; otherwise I am of no use after all._

A man rushes directly for me, blade raised overhead.

_Helmet long gone, hair escaped from his topknot, eyes wide, mouth screaming mindlessly, he charges._

I half-crouch, knocking the man's knees out and letting momentum fling him over my shoulder; don't stop, keep moving, got to move _faster_ , Piandao.

Finally, I am almost close enough.

__Close enough to see the Captain turn to face me, hurling orders at his men and flames at the few Warriors that had seen the counter-attack forming. Even as I run (too slow, Piandao, you're supposed to be fast, aren't you?) he hammers a blow down upon one girl, fists enclosed with red flame, black smoke punctuating the lash of his fists. Three crushing blows- stomach twice, then right temple- and she goes down._ _

__She doesn't move again._ _

Close enough, Piandao.

I leap. I spring towards the Captain, using a large rock as a start-off point, and land directly in front of the man.

If the Captain is surprised by my sudden appearance, he makes no sign, simply gathering the flames around his hands once again and aiming a blow directly for my torso.

A blow smashes into my chest, a hammer made of white-hot steel.

The only reaction I allow myself is for my forced grin to get a little tighter.

_Is that it? Is that all you're going to give me, Captain?_

I see panic slip into his eyes, and he swings again. This time, I don't allow him to touch me, snatching his flame-enclosed forearm- it's like grasping hot coals-(the trick is not that it doesn't hurt, the trick is not minding that it hurts) and wrenching his arm at an unnatural angle.

_Yes, I suspected as much. It's not quite the same when you're not fighting a teenage girl, is it, Captain? A little less intimidating, aren't you?_

I'm almost disgusted. I disarm him, and twist past him as he drops to his knees, finding myself in the middle of the knot of soldiers that would have formed the core of the counter-offensive.

And walk right into a blast of flame that knocks me backwards and sends me tumbling to the floor and _oh Agni I forgot how much that_ _hurts_ _-_

Get up. You yet live.

_Blindly, I scrabble in the mud and the blood, looking for purchase on the ground._

I'm injured. No longer actually on fire- rolling on the ground helped. Burn on left shoulder. Arm still works.

I'll live.

_Oh? What's this my left hand has closed around?_

It's another sword.

Impulsively, I snatch it as I propel myself upwards, catching the man above me unawares. It costs him.

Now they begin to pay attention to me. I play it up, rolling the twin blades in my hands as menacingly as I know how. I even strike a pose.

It's all smoke and mirrors, really. I can fight with two blades, certainly, but it's a Water Tribe technique, usually with two different weapons entirely- club and machete is the classic combination- and the blades are much shorter. Twin long swords is just silly.

Looks impressive, though. To the layman.

_They shrink back, and toward one another, wary. Just for a second. Then the first charges, flanked by two more._

I hurl my borrowed sword, and it embeds itself in the first man's head. As he falls, I'm already charging, cutting down his two comrades, and finally, _finally_ , it seems I've delayed these men long enough, because I can sense a presence at my back and the Kyoshi Warriors suddenly leap into the fray.

The rest of the battle doesn't last long. The men that remain are outnumbered, outflanked, and leaderless. Some fall. The rest flee, back towards the bay.

We let them leave. We have a plan to attend to.

Unfortunately, that was the easy part.

–

I invest a moment in surveying the aftermath of the first round of combat.

Not great, to be frank. From a tactical point of view ( _from any point of view_ ) we lost too many in that battle. Thirty-five percent casualties, at least half of them dead, half of the wounded unlikely to live long enough to heal. Our healers emerge from their cellar where they had waited out the first wave, and carry those that are still alive down into the dark for whatever treatment they can offer. The remaining Warriors move around with great purpose and bustle, masking the movements of the healers as best they can without getting underfoot.

After all, we are being observed.

In moments, we are ready. A nod to the Commander (she's trying to keep the weight off her left leg. Not a good sign) and they are off.

Into the woods, and towards the mountain. It looks as if they are fleeing, and leaving me behind to face the second wave alone.

Misdirection and surprise. Those are the strengths of the Kyoshi Warriors. Their talents are wasted in a drawn out fight (as we saw, I glumly thought, as I noted the flashes of green and white amongst the red corpses that littered the street)...

Where was I? Oh yes. They aren't suited to protracted combat- lightly armed and lightly armoured, if that first wave had survived long enough to counter-attack we would have been slaughtered- so our plan played to their strengths the most out of all of us.

The idea for this stage is that the Warriors appear to flee, apparently leaving me to deal with the second wave alone.

This was Pakku's idea.

I am aware of my reputation. I am aware that there is a certain tendency to... exaggerate my capabilities. Pakku thought that we could use that to make it seem like I _was_ going to fight the entire second wave alone.

 _Yes_ , I did fight and defeat one hundred firebenders. _No_ , it was not in straight combat. We did not gather in a field, one hundred firebenders lined up on one side and me on the other.

This is what escapes those that have heard of me. Have you ever seen my home? It's half fortress, half maze. Many Fire Nation mansions are, actually (the nobility are notorious for their entirely justified paranoia), but mine in particular. It's one of the things that attracted me to the place.

I kept an eye on the sea. I thought I might have a minute before the second wave hit the island.

This plan lived or died based upon Zhao being utterly predictable. We were lucky in that regard.

What I know of Admiral Zhao is that he appears to be a pupil of the old school of Fire Nation warfare (which is ironic, really, considering). The school of thought that dominates his strategy is that there is a level of raw power that no planning can hope to thwart (a school of thought that Jeong-Jeong, during his long campaign in the South, did a great deal to discredit). I disagreed, personally. We shall see.

A whistle in the upper atmosphere broke my thoughts.

Bombardment?

 _Really_?

I suppose even the Admiral must buy into the myth, then. Honestly, what does he expect me to _do_? Split the flaming boulders in two with my sword?

I was moderately confident as I dived back into the cellar that I had begun this battle in, and nodded at the earthbender who was still holding his place seconds before the first boulder slammed into the ground.

This is /CRASH/ why we /CRASH/ left /CRASH CRASH CRASH/ the earthbenders in the cellars. They /CRASH CRASH CRASH plunk/ should be able to keep the integrity of the cellars in case of bombardment.

I watched a bead of sweat roll down the man's forehead as he fought to keep the roof above our heads solid, but he managed it, and I silently prayed that the others were having equal success.

Presently, the bombardment ceased.

Ah. The second wave had arrived on the shore. If he's going by the handbook, there will probably be fewer firebenders in this wave.

Had that really only been one minute? It seemed longer.

–

Another wave.

I'm standing in the middle of the street, apparently paying them no heed.

I had found an apple. It was a nice touch, and besides, I was hungry.

They're almost within incineration distance when I look up- some are straining to break formation, but the order has not been given yet- and (mainly because I doubt I'm going to get a chance like this again soon) give them a jaunty little wave.

"Good morning."

Then I set off for the woods at a sprint, flames lapping at my heels.

–

Undergrowth lashes at my shins as I sprint through the shadows of the trees, making a straight line for the mountain. Behind me, it was like a storm had been unleashed, thundering and crashing bearing down on me.

I was faster. I could perhaps have lost them entirely, given time, but that would have defeated the purpose.

To my left, I almost saw a tree with three shallow cuts gashed into the bark.

 _Three_ -elephant-eel...

I scanned the trees in front of me, suddenly worried. To my relief, I saw nothing.

 _Two_ -elephant-eel...

The sounds of the second wave crashing after me were loud, but easily ten seconds behind me. Adequate.

 _One_ -elephant-eel...

I leap, sailing over what looked like a thick and heavy patch of foliage, and almost landed on a worried looking young man.

One of the volunteers from the refugees. I nodded briefly at him, and kept moving, finally diving into my tunnel just as the second wave hit the concealed stockade.

–

It's dark, down here. I keep one hand trailing along the wall as I make my way back towards the village.

I don't hear the battle very well, and I don't listen particularly hard. So I cannot tell if the second wave fell into the trap- if they were surprised by the concealed ditch (ten feet deep most of the way), or the angled stakes, pointing outward towards the invaders like a forest of spears. I don't know if they were caught off guard by the men behind this obstacle. I don't even know if they found the remaining Kyoshi Warriors dropping out of the trees above them particularly unexpected.

I hope everything is going to plan. But I do not intend to find out. Not until everything is said and done. No unnecessary distractions.

The side of the tunnel was rough under my fingertips- we had run the earthbenders we had ragged over the past four days, so they had no time to make everything smooth. This tunnel would probably collapse within a couple of days, or next time it rained heavily over the woods.

I saw, after two dark minutes, a faint light at the end of the tunnel, and nodded. Presently, I emerged into one of the cellars beneath the town. It was identical to the one I had started the battle in- same dimensions, same small candle sitting on a three-legged stool- but this one, instead of housing Kyoshi Warriors, was filled with men of the Southern Water Tribe.

Their Chief's Second was there, and he spared me a nod, and a neutral glance.

"So far, so good," I informed him, and began checking my armour down. It had held up well, so far.

My shoulder was another matter, though. After careful inspection, it seemed as though I could use it without damaging the area further. It hurt like hell, and already the skin that had been beneath the armoured plating when it took the blow was swelling and rubbing against the metal, but I would live, and more importantly right now, I could still fight at (almost) full effectiveness.

Suddenly, it seemed the atmosphere in the tiny cellar changed. A man looked up, the way he cocked his head combining with his his helmet to make him seem almost animal, and I thought for a mad second that he was going to sniff the air. Then I remembered we were in a cellar. Another twitched slightly, and more half-turned to the back wall, which, now I remembered it, was facing the sea.

And then I heard the marching. Several seconds after everyone else, it would seem.

The third wave. Generally the same proportion as the second wave- maybe one-tenth firebenders- in this situation. If the second wave was successful- which, as far as could be ascertained from the prow of the _Coiling Dragon_ , it was- then the third would be simply used to mop up any further resistance, and reduce friendly casualties through judicious application of overwhelming force.

It's a basic strategy, which has helped it become standardised. Of course, everyone forgets that the _point_ of basic strategies is to give you something to complicate later.

Zhao is, in the school of tactics, and exceptionally poor student. He's supposed to be cunning, but that didn't bother me. Cunning is something intrinsic and instinctive as much as anything else, and in Zhao's case, as in so many others, it did not come with the patience and attention span required to sit down all day and deal with the placement of men and materiel, the drawing up of duty rosters, the care of supply lines, and the hundred other things that would make your cunning idea a tactical reality.

In fact, intrinsic cunning wasn't even required for a successful tactician- just look at Chin the Conqueror. In the flesh, he was said to be physically and mentally underwhelming. He was solid, and unimaginative. His reflexes were poor. He was a particularly un-savvy politician. But his tactics and strategies were enough to make even the most hardened of tacticians break down in tears. They were almost works of art in themselves.

Apparently Chin had been something of an architect in his younger days, and he applied that precision to the battlefield. A cunning man might try that, but without the will to sit down and work on the dull minutiae, they will never get it to work.

This is all very interesting, but there's no time to muse on it any more because the third wave is _here_ and it's time to move move move up and at 'em, boys, as my old Sergeant used to say.

–

Damnit.

This is no good.

We've gone too far too fast, and now we're spreading apart, diffusing across the battlefield. It won't be long before their greater numbers start to pull us down.

The ones in the wood will not survive that. Assuming they survived the second wave, of course.

I back up, my sword arm engaged in deflecting three swordsmen at once, my feet dancing backwards upon the churned and uneven ground, my free arm gripping the haft of a spear that had until seconds ago been lunging for my gut. Now the weapon was locked between the crook of my left arm and my side, but the man himself was free, and it was only a matter of time before he remembered to let go of his weapon and draw his sword and then I might actually be in a little trouble.

This cannot last long. I have to take the initiative.

I make my move. Twisting sharply at the waist, I wrench the trapped spear out of the man's hands, smashing the hilt into the wrists of one swordsman, sending his blade tumbling, but I'm impeded by my armour so I can't get away in time when one of the other swordsmen lunges straight for my heart and I'm moving backwards far, far too slowly and-

Suddenly, the man stops short, and collapses to his knees. A blue-clad figure appears behind the man, knocking him to the ground, and I use the distraction to cut the other two swordsmen down. Turning to my right, it becomes apparent that the spearman is gone.

I turn back to the man who assisted me. Chief Hakoda.

I spare him a nod, and he replies in kind. Noting my eyes suddenly locked over his shoulder, he turns and his club smashes the jaw of a firebender, even as I deflect a spear that had been meant for his back.

That was how the battle was, for a minute or two. His boomerang prevented a firebender from incinerating me even as my blade covered him as he threw. I relieved a man of his head while the Chief's club smashed the teeth of a man aiming for my back. There was a rhythm to it, almost.

But we had to stay mobile. When fighting a vastly numerically superior force, mobility is the only way to stay alive. You had to take the opportunities you could if you wanted to survive to take more later. So we moved, drawn ever deeper into the mass of the Fire Nation ranks, and it was not long before we were cut off from the rest of the tribesmen.

"Damnit," I heard the chief mutter, as he wrenched his machete from the head of a soldier, viscera flying. "This is no good." I couldn't reply immediately- an enterprising soldier had made his way through the charred ruins of a house, away from his fellows, and had blindsided me.

"Indeed," I spat out, when I could. I looked up.

The Chief was no longer there.

Damnit.

He's a little way away, cutting a path, barrelling through the ranks, heading for...something. I can't see what. But he's moving too quickly, not finishing his enemies, and they're starting to get up again behind him.

We can't have that.

I raced after him, smashing into the already beleaguered men, my sword lashing out, unfurling around me, ending men left and right as I charged to catch up to chief Hakoda.

If we had seen a man fight like this in the Fire Nation, we would say he had a death wish. What in Agni's name is he _doing_?

Suddenly, he sprang, leaping up and alighting on a large boulder that had once decorated the side of the road.

Oh, I see. Clever, but reckless. And it would have been nice to know what he planned earlier.

" _Men of the South!"_ he bellowed, kicking at a man reaching up to him even as his voice boomed across the battlefield. " _To me, men of the South!"_

–

It does not take long.

The Chief and I survive- at the cost of another dent to my armour, a long bruise on the back of my left leg, a second (thankfully minor) burn on my forearm, to complement the one on my shoulder, and a long gash on the back of my hand (nothing that will stop me, or slow me down. Just pain). The Chief looks similarly dishevelled, and I am mildly disconcerted to note that he is bleeding heavily from one side, from a spear lunge he hadn't evaded quite in time.

But we were both alive, and as such were keeping the enemy busy when the Southern tribesmen crashed into them like a wave, led by Hakoda's tall Second.

By my reckoning we were at even numbers now, but the soldiers were tired and harried and had lost any initiative they might have had, and it was scant moments before someone screamed 'Retreat!' and within seconds that retreat had become a rout as they fled for the shore.

This time, we followed them.

–

They fled, blindly charging for the shore. Some didn't make it, cut down by the men of the South. I walked, merely observing. There was something distasteful about this, I thought. I was unnerved, slightly, by what I could see of the tribesmen- real, primal _hate_ was etched onto every face, and they pulled down and butchered the men they caught with frightening satisfaction, something I did not remember from my time in battle against them.

Fifteen years is a long time, though. The Southern Water Tribe has been through a great deal in those fifteen years.

If I still had a plan, this might have made me less confident in it- that kind of concentrated hatred would have poisoned any peace talks. Lucky for us, then, that the plan will not be required, I thought, sourly.

I do not know how many despaired when they came upon the wreckage of their landing craft. Certainly it cannot be as many that did when the surf itself rose and attacked, lashing and drowning and smashing bones. When Pakku walked out of the sea and joined his sister tribe in destroying the invaders.

I did not look. But when it was all over the ships of the Water Tribes emerged from the sea bed, bobbing up, buoyed by the waterbenders and their waxing power.

Pakku nodded at me, and I returned the gesture, climbing into one of the smaller, faster boats- although any of them would be fast by Fire Nation standards.

Now comes the hard part.

–

There is no fourth wave in the standard model for Fire Nation Seaborne Invasion. If three are insufficient, then increase the numbers involved. Anything else is up to personal interpretation.

Zhao's interpretation is something along the lines of 'my coracle is full of eels'.

Never mind. It's just a joke I heard once.

We were propelled across the choppy waters of the bay by the waterbenders, moving faster than any normal ship could. Our move here was simple. Swarm two ships. They have already lost many men this day. Sink two ships, and the rest may begin to feel it is not worth it. Perhaps we shall cause a mutiny. Perhaps they shall flee, convinced we can keep this up all day.

Misdirection. All tactics when faced with a numerically superior foe begin with misdirection.

None of the ships were accompanied by smaller boats that could have engaged us one-on-one, and such a tactic would have been suicide in any case against waterbenders, so the only weapon they have right now is-

_A whistle, and I see a line of black smoke, barely visible against the deep grey clouds._

Bombardment.

I'm almost impressed by how quickly they manned the trebuchets.

I keep my eyes on the burning rocks as they fall, past the apex of their journey. Behind me, I hear Pakku grunt with exertion, and the boat leaps forward, fairly skipping over the surface of the waves now, and I grasp the sides of the boat and the boulders are falling now, right above us, and and and

One smashes the water beside us, the water bucking and flying, and the boat flips, sending me tumbling down into the dark water-

–

**.**

**.**

**.**

_I cannot move cannot breathe can do nothing_

**.**

**.**

**.**

_My eyes are closed I feel nothing but the water pushing in on me and my armour dragging me down into the depths and it hurts_

**.**

**.**

**.**

_Rather anticlimactic really_

**.**

**.**

**.**

_I open my eyes for the last time_

**.**

**.**

**.**

A gigantic, golden, slitted orb stares back.

–

Any port in a storm.

I like that saying.

–

You know, I'm not sure that this was such a great idea.

I had scrabbled, frantic for anything that could save me from the water, and the being that Agni had sent me was the Unagi. So I snatched at the first thing I could, and what I grabbed was one of the long whipping barbels of the beast.

This is looking bad. We're about to break surface.

–

Oh Agni I am going to die.

I can't hold on I can't hold on I _can't hold on_. The whisker slips through my fingers, wrenched away by the rushing wind, and I'm slipping away there's nothing I can do but

-I draw my sword. It's almost impossible in midair, but I do it because I have no other choice-

_LUNGE._

-The blade tastes flesh and bites deep. All I can do is hold on-

-And not look down-

–

It's oddly beautiful up here.

I have managed, after a lot of pain and near misses, to climb up to the nape of the Unagi's neck.

I would say five seconds have passed since the beast broke the surface.

But it's beautiful up here, where the clouds break in slits and thin shafts of sunlight break through, and the air is still, and I see the refractions of the rainbow in every droplet of water suspended in the air, and the smell of blood is fainter than below.

I _feel_ the roar almost before I hear it, rumbling up through the body of the Unagi even as the beast rears. It has noticed the invaders.

Well. That's not too bad.

With a jolt, the beast rushes and everything changes, the air blurring with speed as we rush headlong toward the _Coiling Dragon_.

A mad thought seeps into my head.

_Go on._

No.

_Go on. You know you want to._

...No.

_When are you ever going to get another chance?_

...Fine.

Labouredly, I stand, my left hand hanging onto the fin on the Unagi's head. With the other, I draw my sword and flourish it, dragging it against the wind resistance, letting the brief snatches of sunlight catch on it, and finally pointing it at the _Coiling Dragon._ Against all odds, I felt a grin tug at my face.

If you're going to do something suicidal and stupid, it might as well be done with a little panache.

–

That's a big boat. The phrase 'wonder what he's compensating for' flits through my head, entirely unbidden, and I get the feeling that that's the reaction everyone has when they see the _Coiling Dragon_.

Of course, I'm seeing it from a superior vantage point to most.

The Unagi is rearing above the foredeck, looming over the men frantically trying to reload the trebuchets in time. There's no chance for them, and I feel the muscles beneath me bunch as the mighty neck prepares to smash down upon them.

Oh no. Oh please no.

It's like the air has turned to tar. I can feel myself slip, ever so slightly, as the mighty head begins to plummet, but I can do nothing to correct my footing, or get a better grip, and before I know it I'm twisting, slipping

falling

_andit'sallicandoto getmyhandsabovemyhead-_

–

ow.

i'm dragging myself up on my hands and knees and

_**AGH** _

my wrist is on fire and it hurts to **breathe** and i'm gasping for air like i'm **drowning** and i can hear something that sounds like like like

**Running. Towards me. Away from me. Crashing. Screaming.**

**Rise.**

And i'm getting up as quickly as i can too quickly my head is spinning and i slump and stumble and nearly fall and then i see the beast and everything is a nightmare.

they don't stand a chance. fire lashes at the sides of the monster but the unagi doesn't care -doesn't even seem to notice- just keeps snatching men from the deck and swallowing them whole and somone on another ship must have given the order because now projectiles are hurled broadside from other ships -but suddenly the unagi vanishes- leaving the coiling dragon to take the boulders -each one smashing through the foredeck with a clang and a screech of tortured steel- and suddenly the unagi is on the other side of the ship bursting out of the water with a scream and a cry and it's _angry_ now -and the water is rising rising bubbling all around the ship- and it rises high behind the mighty beast ready to smash down upon the vessel with all the force of Agni's vengeance and one thought punctures me like a pin.

**There is no way I am leaving this ship alive.**

So. What do I do?

I clean up.

I make damn sure that Admiral Zhao goes down with his ship, like any good Captain.

I wobble slightly as I take my first step. The ship bucks and curves in the water and I see the Unagi is almost ready.

There's no blood left in my veins. Fire has long since swept it away, and this burning screaming pain is all I have left but I block it out and turn to the aft of the ship and **run**

_behind me, the tidal wave smashes down upon the ship._

I slip. I fall.

**I get up again.**

The lifeboats. Got to get to the lifeboats.

I can still kill Zhao. I still have my

half my sword.

The world recedes for a second, as I stare dumbly at the blade, snapped clear in two.

When did that happen?

Must have been... when I fell.

Oh Agni I am tired. I just want to lie down and I never want to move again.

The moment passes.

I still have an Admiral to end.

–

There is chaos at the lifeboats. The Unagi continues its attack on the foredeck, sending wave after wave pounding down onto the ship, rocking and hammering at the once mighty vessel. Every man with half a clue is trying to scramble for the lifeboats.

And there I find Zhao, screaming with rage, shoving men aside, trying to be the first to board. Few seem interested in what he wants, though.

I stagger forward. No one in the crowded mess of armoured bodies seems to notice me yet. Not until I wrench a man aside (my wrist _screams_. I ignore it) and shove and slip my way to the Admiral.

"Zhao," I slur, once I am behind him. All around me, men are drawing back. Good. Gives me room to work.

The Admiral turns, and the blood runs from his face.

" _YOU!_ "

Conversation over, he swings blindly, fire streaming from his fingertips, but the deck bucks again, rising up, shifting five feet to the right, and slamming back lower than before. I block his strike with my stricken forearm (should _not_ have done that).

This is not a battle.

I slice his throat open in one swift movement, using the blade edge that remains on my sword, and kick him to the deck with the last of my strength. I could be defeated by a strong breeze now.

No one moves. No one moves to fight me. No one moves for the lifeboats. I have paralysed every man on the aft deck.

Well that's no good. They'll all die if they don't evacuate now.

I take an experimental step.

No one moves.

There is one thing left I can do. If I am stopping these men from trying to save themselves, then I must be removed.

I stumble sideways, propelling myself to the side of the deck.

Without a pause, without even bothering to take a breath (what good would it do?), I allow myself to tumble over the side.

And it's like ice and the water rushes to meet me-


	20. The Ashes

_Or,_

_ Hope is the Thing with Feathers. _

–

I wake.

This is unexpected in itself.

I hurt. A hell of a lot.

That, after accepting that I am not dead, is hardly surprising.

I have lived with hurt a long time, though. So I open my eyes as soon as I am able, and pay no heed to the many valid protestations of my body.

It is loud.

It is dark.

It is warm.

Primary observations. So far, I could be any number of places. I could be on the Island, but I could just as easily be on a Fire Nation Dreadnought. I could be dead, if some of the more exotic depictions of the afterlife are correct.

I do not... _think_ I am dead. But it's always wise to consider all the possibilities.

I try to lift my head up, but a wave of nausea and dizziness hits me like a hammer, slamming me backwards.

So, no way to tell if the spinning of the room is my own head or the swell of a ship.

I don't try to move.  I don't try to open my eyes again.  I open my other senses, instead.  I breathe deep through my nostrils- the copper tang of blood mixes with the flat smell of soap, the occasional smell of clean water- and clean water does have a smell, in the way that steel has a smell- and underneath it all, there's a hint of packed-down dirt- and I strain to filter the sounds- the bustle of activity, people striding, lifting, carrying.  It doesn't drown out the groans, or the occasional shriek of sudden pain.  In a corner somewhere, somebody is crying.  I do not think I am in the company of the Fire Nation.

I open my eyes again. This time I look to my right.

I see another bed, pushed up against the wall.

It's occupied.

The girl it holds has been shed of her armour, leaving her clad in a light shirt that has been pulled up, exposing a mess of blood-soaked bandages over her stomach. Her legs are covered by a blanket.

She is unconscious.

Abruptly, her entire body _jerks_ upwards, a hacking cough propelling her upwards for a fraction of a second.

Flecks of blood spurt from her lips, dark and viscous, staining her facepaint.

Her left arm flops outwards, escaping from the confines of the bed.

Unconsciously, my hand reaches for hers.

There is no life in it.

It's easy to look away.

It is significantly harder to wrench my head up from the pillow and shout.

Nevertheless, that is what I do, and I pray my cry will be heard in the cacophony of the underground medical centre.

" _Medic!"_

–

It's too late for her. A healer rushes, too slowly, and forces a plume of water down the child's throat.

She was not coughing. She was _retching_. Something internal was bleeding, and her body was trying to expel it.

An hour ago, the treatment she now receives might have worked. But there are so many, so many that might have died if left unattended long enough to heal this one fully. So her skin was sealed, and she was given a place to rest, and a brief prayer that that would be enough.

It was not enough.

She is dying, and there is nothing anyone can do about it.

I hold her hand, in the darkness, as the healer frantically tries to do something, to stop the shaking that has taken her. Sometimes, that's all we can do.

Sometimes all anyone can do is be there.

It is not until it is too late- not until the waterbender stops, slowly, and shakes her head- that I see it. Not until the healer reaches out and places a hand on the child's forehead that I recognise her.

Oh Kame. You would have been safer amongst the healers.

I no longer wish to be here.

So I leave.

Every muscle in my back hates me as I rise. Every bone in my body _screams_ at me as I _stand on the warm earth floor but I barely notice it over the fire consuming my legs and back and_ and I am master of it, for just long enough.

Someone tells me I should rest.

I cannot rest here.

I am too much a coward to rest here.

–

I do not... recall how I left the medical cellar. My next memory is sitting, facing the sea. My back leaning against what remains of a wall. The gutted village behind me.

The sea seems clear of ironclads. The wreck of the _Coiling Dragon_ is there, though. It will probably entertain the Unagi for months.

In my current state, I do not hear the man walk towards me. I have no knowledge of his existence until he speaks.

"The tides have washed you back up onto the beach, I see."

I exhale, slowly. Everything I do I am forced to do slowly.

"If by that you mean I am still alive, then... yes. I think so, Chief Hakoda."

He does not make his response in words. Instead, he takes a seat beside me.

After a while, I find the strength in me to continue.

"Of course, I find myself wondering exactly how this is possible."

"You don't remember?" he asked, almost amused. I didn't see the joke.

"The last thing I recall is... falling from the ship." I raised my arm, vaguely pointing to the wreck. "Then... nothing more." My hand dropped down, exhausted by the mere effort required to keep it upright.

He shakes his head, softly amused.

"You have my father in law to thank for that. I'll admit he moved faster than I thought possible after your boat was hit."

I think I may have missed a page or two, because I cannot fathom what on earth the man is talking about.

"Father in law?"

Does he seem surprised at my ignorance?

"Did he not tell you? Master Pakku and my mother are to be married." He frowned as he said it, as though he would rather have found some other way to put it.

It takes a moment for his words to sink in.

Pakku.

Married.

Father in law.

I pat the chief on the shoulder, as a sign of commiseration.

"I'm very sorry."

His features harden, and I know instantly that my semi-conscious and ill-thought out attempt at levity has failed.

I never was good at lightening the mood, and I regret trying. It's the wrong time for such things.

"Pakku is a good man, and a good friend," I elaborated, hoping to ease his mind. "His sense of humour is... abrasive, although I am sure you have already seen that, and he can be a cantankerous old goat at the best of times."

Hakoda nodded.

"He seems... intense."

"Oh yes. He is a teacher at heart, one with the highest of expectations. He never switches off, never stops teaching, and more importantly, never stops _evaluating_. He is one of the greatest friends I have left, but I could not stand him for more than a few months a year. Perhaps married life will mellow him out somewhat. If not, I hope you can get used to him."

I'm aware that I'm rambling, letting my brain drift somewhere where all the sharp edges are dulled and unimportant. I'm going to have to start paying attention again soon, and I appreciate this moment all the more for it.

Hey, Pakku's going to be married. Good for him.

I wonder if I shall be invited to the wedding?

I wonder when the wedding shall be? Traditionally, as I recall, the most auspicious time for weddings among the Water Tribe would be the Winter Solstice, and in fact that date was the only time Chiefs and sons of Chiefs could marry. I don't recall the rule for mothers of Chiefs.

It would be quite the scandal in the Fire Nation, you know. For the Chief's mother to remarry.

Not that we have Chiefs. But remarriage is considered something Not Done, and if the couple are unlucky it could be used as an excuse for excommunication.

Excommunication doesn't hurt as much as the name makes it sound, though. I never put much stock in the Fire Sages. After all, I've seen their headquarters.

But anyway. The Winter Solstice. That's a little bit of an awkward time, right now. A little far away.

Perhaps they will waive the date, this time. After all, Pakku is going to war, and that has always served as an excuse in these sorts of situations.

Perhaps not, though. Pakku has always been something of a stickler for tradition.

Hakoda clears his throat, interrupting what passes for my thoughts.

"I, well," he sounds awkward, but his face betrays nothing "I want to apologise."

I blink. What the Inferno is the man talking about?

"For my behaviour, before. I should not have allowed my... prejudices to cloud my judgement."

Oh right.

"If suspicion of a man who shows up at just the right time with what looks like all the answers is what you would call clouded judgement, then I think one of us has badly misunderstood the meaning of the phrase."

"If I had been more logical about it, I would have been a good deal more tactful. And then told Bato not to let you out of his sight."

We both shared a not-laugh at that.

"Fine. For the sake of not causing a fuss, apology accepted."

We sat for a while, I watching nothing but the clouds behind my eyelids. I do not know what Chief Hakoda was looking at.

Suddenly he spoke again, jerking me back from self-consciousness.

"You know, it never occurred to me before. You must have left a lot behind."

I blink, trying once again to follow the man's train of thought. Once again I fail.

But he's right enough.

"Almost everything, actually. House, most of my money, friends. Church." Never had any family to speak of- I could have found them easily enough, but didn't seem worth it after all this time.

Although it would have been nice to know if I had a sibling.

"I'm sorry," he says. Of course he says sorry. Everyone would say sorry in his position, because there's really nothing else to say, and saying nothing would be rude.

"Don't be," I tell him. "I walked into this with my eyes open, you know." Sure, I didn't really have many _options_ , but I knew what I was getting into. "It hasn't killed me yet."

"Hah. That's something, I suppose."

I sighed. "Perhaps," I conceded.

–

It was the next morning, and I was feeling rather more clear in the head. Unfortunately.

I had been persuaded to rest in one of the many tents that were housing those who did not need instant medical attention.

I had only allowed the healers to give me the most cursory of examinations, so as not to take up their unimaginably precious time. My left arm was broken, of course, in two places, and was now in a sling. I had been badly burned in several places, and my ankle had been twisted. My back was a mess of bruises, and dotted about my upper body were patches of angry purple flesh.

Not as bad as it could have been, and certainly not as bad as I have suffered in the past.

I do not want to go outside. I do not want to go outside because I am used to the pain now, sitting like this, a pillow supporting my lower back, my head resting lightly against the thick fabric of the tent, and if I get up I will aggravate my injuries.

I do not get up because I do not wish to hurt.

Suddenly the tent flap is brushed aside, and the sun glares momentarily before being obscured by a figure sticking their head into my tent.

"Master Piandao? I was told I could find you he- oh I'm so sorry I'll let you get up but I really must speak with you Master-"

I hardly catch a word, but her tone lets me know that I am needed again.

Sighing, I let my hand drop to the shirt by my side, and wrestle with it,freezing every few seconds as a strained muscle warns me not to use it.

Eventually I manage to dress. It's a good thing I slept in my trousers, since I don't think I would be able to put them on otherwise.

"Enter," I said, preserving my voice by speaking as little as possible.

Commander Suki walks back in, as businesslike as you please.

"Master Piandao," she says, and bows. For a second, she seems unsure of how to proceed, but it's smothered by a look of desperate professionalism.

"I'm sorry I have to ask you this, but we couldn't think of who else to ask," she says, trying to remain disaffected. I just wish she would get to the point.

Then she does, and I'd really rather she danced around it a little more first.

"We want to know what we should do with the- the dead. The Fire Nation soldiers."

I close my eyes again. My face remains perfectly blank.

"A pyre. A funeral pyre. Try and get people to sort them, if you can."

she seems nonplussed.

"...Sort?"

" _Yes_." I can't help snapping at the wrong target. "We do not simply heap our soldiers like the carcasses of _animals_ , Commander."

The moment passes, and I try to soften my features. "I apologise, Commander. I should not have raised my voice."

"It's alright, Master," she replies, utterly controlled. "How should they be... sorted?"

"By unit, typically. We honour the bonds forged in life. Look for marks on their armour."

She nodded. She probably thinks that she seems as blasé as can be.

"...What in particular should -we look for?"

Most people would have missed the hitch in her throat before 'we'. She is dreading this. That makes two of us.

I could get away with staying here. Hide behind my injuries.

I _do not want_ to do this. I do not wish to go out there, to attend the funeral pyres, to hear the last rites (but who will say them? Who will pray for them?), to watch the smoke curl upwards into the heavens. I do not wish to because it was _I_ who led them to this end, who plotted and planned and manipulated the battlefield to multiply their numbers.

I am a coward, sometimes.

I raise my hand.

"I shall accompany you."

"-Oh, you don't have to-"

No. I am afraid I do. "I know the words, at least. You should be with your unit."

I should perhaps have suggested she go and wrestle a porcupine-skunk. Yes, she does not wish to be with her comrades yet. Not until she can stop seeing the ones that are not there any more.

"I think I am needed more here," she replies, without the barest hint of inflection.

"As you wish."

I do not wish to get up, because I do not wish to hurt.

I get up anyway.

–

Well.

That was an education, if nothing else.

I learned that I can recite the funeral prayers perfectly, and without prompting.

I wonder why I find it in myself to be surprised at that.

–

It has been some days. I have moved in to the Town Hall. It escaped much of the flames, and after its structural integrity was assured, people were allowed into it. It sits at the top of the street, surveying a charred mess that used to be a village.

It's like this whole fucking island is trying to depress me.

Not that it has to try hard right now. But anyway.

I am sitting in the small room that has been set aside for me. There is little for me to do- I have no applicable skills once the battle is over, and really no one wants to associate with me right now- but I am not healed enough to consider leaving just yet.

I seem to be making everybody intensely uncomfortable just by existing right now. Even Chief Oyaji has given me that look- the one that so eloquently says 'Right. You've done our fighting for us, and a jolly good job you did of it too. I'm sure you've got places to be, let me help you down with that suitcase.' It's mostly those that did not participate in the fighting, or those that fought in the forest, where I did not, that give me that look.

I'm just waiting until I'm healed enough to leave, frankly. The sooner I am away, the better.

The only one I have seen with any regularity has been Chief Hakoda. We have been discussing Jeong-Jeong's Plan, and the part the men of the South can play in it.

His men took casualties, of course, but more wounded than killed- they were heavily armoured, and more naturally sturdy than- than- than some. So they will be a viable force again within two months. This suits our purposes quite well, actually.

They are going to be joining Pakku and his waterbenders in the first attack on Fire Nation soil in over seventy years.

The target is nothing more than a symbol, now. Prisons, constructed for the waterbenders of the South. A more charged target would be hard to find in the southern hemisphere.

It's not about freeing captives. I very much doubt that there are many left to free. It's a symbol. Striking back at oppression, and all that. Pakku seems to be looking forward to it, in a grim kind of way. Hakoda is more interested in the sequel.

The annihilation of the Southern Raiders.

That is the real battle. That is the one we shall be saving for our Big Day. Word has been passed around to the men of the South- discreetly, of course, and omitting several key details, such as the exact date. It's had a wonderful effect on their morale.

Do I sound a little bitter? Perhaps.

I am finding it harder to detach myself from the distasteful nature of my job at the moment. It shall pass.

–

One morning, following a brief meeting with Hakoda, finalising details that would not be put into action for months, I was alerted by a sharp rap on my door.

"Enter," I said, stepping away from the window, where I had been enjoying the sunshine.

Commander Suki stepped through the door.

We have seen little of each other in the past few days. Both of us have had our duties, and we had never established much of a rapport in any case. I wonder why she is here?

She stands At Ease- not at ease, you understand- in the centre of the room, looking at a point a few inches behind my left ear. There's something... unwholesome lurking behind her eyes. A storm beneath the surface, if you will.

I'm about to say something polite when she interrupts the silence.

"Master Piandao, I just wanted to let you know that the forces of the Kyoshi Warriors are entirely at your disposal. Wherever you need us to go, whenever you need us."

Oh.

Ah.

I see, now. I think I understand what is happening behind her eyes.

"Thank you, Commander. But I believe that your forces would be best suited to defending the Island."

She looks at me, suddenly angry.

"I disagree, Master. Our training extends far beyond guard duty."

Of course it does. As an institution, the Kyoshi Warriors were never meant to guard the island. They were a threat of retribution.

In the old days, there were two forces on the island- the Kyoshi Warriors, and the Civil Guard. The guard were the larger force, and their purpose was to guard the villages. The Kyoshi Warriors existed to strike back at those that would attack them.

So the Commander is correct- using the Kyoshi Warriors as guards is a waste of resources. Which is missing the point.

The point is she is fifteen years old, and if there is one thing I am still sure of it is that I _do not want any more children to die_.

"Be that as it may, we cannot afford to allow the Island to fall. It was, and must be again, a haven for refugees, those who do not wish to fight. It _must not_ fall."

There. I've pandered to her sense of importance. Maybe that will distract her from-

"Then why are the Water Tribes leaving?" she snaps.

Damn damn damn.

A pox on teenagers and their infuriating questions.

"Because they must. As you and your Warriors must stay."

I will not allow her room to argue. Not because I believe she will sway me in any way, but because it is putting me in a bad mood.

"If we are in such danger of being attacked, _Master_ ," she grinds out "then we had better start running now, because we won't survive another attack."

True.

"And you know that."

Again, true.

"So I don't think that you're being entirely honest with me."

That's three in a row. You win a rebuttal.

"I am never entirely honest, Commander. Not with _anyone_."

"Stop it!" she shouts, frustrated. "Stop _dancing around_ and tell me! Tell me why you won't let us _fight_! It's what we're _for_ , it's what we all _worked_ for, to _fight_ them and- and-"

"This is why," I said, softly. "Your grief has been poisoned. You are resentful, full of fear and anger and _guilt_ " she flinches at the word, but I harden my heart and press on "and you are not thinking straight. You want revenge, and you are going to throw your life away in search of something you will _never_ find."

" _I don't care!"_ she almost screams, anger and frustration lending weight to her voice.

"No. You don't, do you?" I sigh, slowly. "I know what you are feeling. Believe me, I know. Everyone I left behind, everyone I _failed_ , every time I watched the funeral pyres burn, I felt as you do now. And I continued to fight, because otherwise their deaths had no _meaning_ , do you understand me? I continued to fight, I continued to aid Azulon and his dreams of dominating the world, because I did not want to think I had _given up_ on my friends."

She is listening. Not accepting, not agreeing, but listening.

"And it never helped. I carried around that feeling every day, loosed it every time I fought the Earth Kingdom, or the Water Tribes, and it _never helped_. You don't believe me, I know. I would not believe me, in your shoes.

But nevertheless, it is true."

She stands, still as a statue, for a long time.

Then she releases a long, shuddering breath, and for the first time, she looks her age.

"What did you do?" she asks, softly, not meeting my eyes. I turn away, to look out the window. Anything to make it easier for her.

"I made my peace with their memories. I made my peace with my enemies. And someday, Agni willing, I will be able to make my peace with myself."

"I see," she says, in a small voice, and then draws herself up, the soldier draping around her like a cloak.

"I shall relay your directions to the rest of the Warriors. Good day, Master Piandao."

"Go with peace, Commander Suki."

–

A few minutes later, Pakku slopes into the room.

"You know, for what it's worth," he says, after a minute or two of silence, "I think you made the right call there."

I really wouldn't have given a damn if it had been the wrong call, but it's always nice to get a second opinion. Especially when they agree.

"Yes. They would have just got underfoot anyway," he continues. "What would I have done with a bunch of _girls_ under my command? Ordered them to sew? No, let them play at soldiers on their island, I say."

He's trying to lighten the mood. I think. It's hard to tell with Pakku.

"So," I say, determined to think of lighter matters," I hear you are to be married."

His features brighten, suddenly, and he smiles widely.

"Yes, you are correct."

"Congratulations. I shall have to give you a bottle or five of rice wine, once I have access to my cellars again."

"Ha. I'd call you generous, if I didn't know that you'll be the one to drink it all at the reception."

"Am I really that transparent? This bodes rather ill."

He smirked at that, then suddenly seemed to remember something.

"Oh! I think you dropped this."

He produced the handle and snapped blade of my sword.

I feel ...a strange reluctance to take it.

Of course I ignore the feeling, and my hand curls around the familiar hilt.

"Thank you." I don't mean for the sword.

"Huh. You're welcome," he says, gruffly. "It wasn't so hard, really. Went a good deal faster once I ditched what was left of the boat, but you're lucky the moon was waxing, that's all."

I nodded in silence.

"So, what's the tally, then? It must be about seven to three, now."

He splutters. "S _even_?"

I nod, gravely.

"That was my last count, yes."

"I had it at two," he counters.

"Oh? Surely you cannot have forgotten Whale Tail Island."

"I have forgotten none of it, although I really rather would."

"Then surely you recall the forest fire? And how I dragged your bony old carcass out of _that_?"

"I could have gotten out of that," he grumbles. "I just needed a little while to draw some more water from the air."

"It was a forest fire, Pakku. By definition, they're rather dry."

He scowled at me, and changed the subject.

"So, you've been rather vocal in telling everyone else what they're going to be up to for the next few months. Care to tell me what _you_ plan to do?"

I pause, for just a second. I had hardly thought about it, but then again it hardly needed thinking about.

"I am going to go home."

–

_You run._

_You turn tail and flee, feet kicking up the sand, but you slip. and_

_FALL._

_Slipping and tumbling down, slipping down into the whirlpool tumbling head over heels and you land hard but force yourself up and you keep running, running from everything and everyone you FAILED._

_The forest calls to you. Darkness. Shadows. Places to hide. Fitting, for one such as you, to seek out the lowest places._

_You run into the woods, seeking absolution, seeking escape, seeking oblivion, but all you find is darkness and screams and hands grasping at you, raking fingers through your hair, ripping and tearing you down and apart and you drop to your knees, a scared little CHILD and you are too weak to do anything and you can do nothing but look up and see him._

_He stands alone, battling against the forest, and for an instant you are allowed to hope that he will save you from your own ineptitude._

_You were supposed to be the one saving him. But you were too weak._

_And so you do nothing but sit and watch._

_Watch the lightning illuminate him all over again._

–

Azula's eyes slammed open.


	21. The Awakening

_Or,_

_ Somebody Could Walk into This Room and say "Your Life is on Fire... _

–

_She should be dead. She had failed, betrayed her family through sheer incompetence, and yet she had not been the one to pay the price. Her lack of initiative, her willingness to sit and watch had sealed their doom. Death was the only thing that could redeem her, and even that had been denied her._

_Father had vanished into the night to die, and all she had offered him were empty promises and a cold embrace._

_Her brother had fallen to the hunting dogs of a traitor King, and she had done nothing but stand and stare._

_Her mother-_

_Was gone. She knew as intrinsically as knowledge of how to take her first breath that her mother was gone._

_She had splintered her family forever._

–

Her head ached- a sharp, throbbing repetition of pain, a knife jabbed methodically and repeatedly into her forehead. It pulsed, colouring everything with the rhythm of her pain as she slowly dragged herself into consciousness by her fingernails.

Some detached, unchangeable, unconquerable centre of Azula was dimly aware that she was somewhere dark.

She couldn't hear a thing over the blinding roar of her headache, so that was no help.

Then she tried to move, ever so slightly, a prelude to the thought of entertaining the notion of possibly moving some time soon. And so she made a rather important discovery.

She was bound, hand and foot.

She came so close to giving in, then. To losing herself to blind panic. For half an instant, she touched hysteria. But no. She would not be Azula if she were to be so easily intimidated.

Instead, she got _angry_.

Who had imprisoned her? Who dared _presume_ that they could prevent her going where she wished?

She would find them, and they would be freed from their delusions.

She savoured the feeling, tasting it, drinking it deep and feeling its warmth bring strength to her frozen limbs. Anger was simple, strong. Undeniable. Self-assured. Free of guilt, of self-recrimination, of all thought.

With a tremendous flash of power, her hands ignited, tearing upwards, ripping through her bonds with horrific ease, and Azula kicked the useless remains away. All but spent, her head flopped backwards, landing heavily on some soft material that she couldn't identify, and her eyes drifted closed.

Just for a second. One instant of rest, and she would be able to move onward.

 _NO_.

She had to leave _now_. If she was fast enough, _strong_ enough...

Maybe things could still be put right.

The delusion all but _propelled_ her upright, sending her staggering up onto her feet in tenths of a second. Too fast. She staggered forward three steps, slipped, stumbled, and her hand shot out into the darkness, feeling for something to stabilise her.

Her fingernails scraped rock, and her palm slapped onto the stone wall, worn smooth by countless generations.

Or ten minutes with a reasonably competent earthbender.

The thought spurred her onwards, her hand trained on the wall, a crutch serving in place of her vision, which remained blurry and indistinct, little but a mass of swirling grey swimming in front of her eyes, and all she could do was stagger unsteadily towards the light.

She got maybe three steps before she heard it.

A rumbling, rushing low and quiet, rippling through the air, tearing through the haze of pain that was muffling her hearing. It seemed to come from every direction at once, echoing and reverberating and slowly fading back into nothing.

She froze, hardly daring to breathe, not trusting herself to breathe, while she counted the silence.

Then the sound came again, and now she couldn't fail to hear a revoltingly _organic_ undercurrent to it, almost like a giant clearing its throat at the bottom of a well, a smacking and a hacking and it rippled down her spine and she _ran_. Direction was a distant second in consideration, as long as she was heading away from whatever was making that terrible noise.

She headed toward to the light, gone far beyond a conscious decision, drawn by a base, primal urge to _flee_ , to escape, and to what she thought might be relief, the hideous echoing rumbling began to fade, slowly but surely, as she fled through the cavern, footsteps echoing through the stone, always facing toward the light, imagined horrors snapping at her from every shadow.

She could not say how long she ran, her vision blurring and her feet slipping and every step agony delayed by nothing more substantial than raw adrenaline. It could have been days for all she knew, the only indication of time she had being the number of times she slipped and fell onto the stone floor.

As long as it was one fewer than the number of times she got up again, it hardly seemed to matter.

And _there_ , _there_ was the way out, the cave mouth, and she slipped and stumbled and there was blood on her palms and her knees ached but it didn't matter because she was nearly _out_ and that was all that mattered.

A shadow stepped into the light, blocking it, blotting it out, standing between her and freedom.

 _There was someone there_.

She could not fight, not like this- even now, enough of her faculties remained for her to realise that. Nor could she escape him- she would be hard-pressed to outrun a sloth-hog at this point. She would have to knock them, whoever they were, down, and flee.

It never even crossed her mind to turn back, to disappear into the shadows.

It was a man who stood in her way, and as she ran, his shadow twisted, turning to look at her.

"Hey! Aren't you-"

Azula swung wildly, fingers stretched, all technique forgotten buried under a built-in instinct that screamed at her to go for the throat, fingernails raking sparks against the air and she felt herself scream as she dived for him.

"What the-"

Her blow raked the side of his face, and he stumbled backwards, one hand clutching at his shredded and bloodied cheek.

"...You're a _firebender_?"

No no no he wasn't going _down_ and she didn't know if she even had the strength for another five seconds of standing upright, let alone another strike.

 _She was strong enough. She must be strong enough_.

She dived for his throat, all pretence of strategy forgotten, all thought long fled from her leaving nothing but the idea that she had to kill this man if she wanted to be free. So she lunged, arms outstretched preparing to throttle the life out of her opponent.

He had other ideas.

The blow came out of nowhere, slamming into her face with the force of a hammer strike, rearranging her thoughts even as she crumpled around it, the terrible drive silenced by the ringing pain, and as she tumbled to the ground she felt what could only be described as peace.

Then he spoke again, delaying blessed unconsciousness.

"Hey, I didn't hit you _that_ hard, you know. …Are you... are you okay? I mean apart from the fact that I just punched you."

Azula blinked as she watched the sky swirl and boil above her, something she found very strange as she thought she had been in a cave a second ago.

"Are you- …oh, shit. Oh, shit."

Something heavy landed on the ground next to her with a thump, and all of a sudden a rough and calloused- but pleasingly warm- surface was draped across her forehead.

She suddenly felt uncomfortably hot.

"Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit."

Who kept _saying_ that?

Suddenly the voice shouted, a single word Azula didn't recognise echoing up through the cave.

" _Katara!_ "

What the hell was a katara?

–

_Smoke rose, bloomed. Like a flower in the dark. A deep crimson one instant, then it would swirl and flow into a powerful blue and then back again and then again, back and forth, warring and dancing, never mixing but constantly touching against one another._

_Then there came a breeze, blowing in from some distant corner, and the smoke writhed and shook, wings beating for an instant as an ethereal head reared in the smoke before being subsumed, and then the red tore upwards, forsaking and fleeing from the blue, twisting into the shape of Agni's servant and coiling upwards into the night._

_And then there was nothing left at all._

–


	22. Born Lucky

_Or,_

… _It's All Over the Evening News- All About the Fire in Your Life on the Evening News."_

–

There seemed to be a voice. Or was it two voices? It was getting hard to tell, with the way the world seemed to be sliding backwards and forwards like the waves on a beach.

" _Whoa, what- is that?- …Sokka, what did you_ _do_ _?"_

" _What did_ _I_ _do? Do you not see... oh. Sorry. Look, just go get Katara, I'll need to move her back into the cave."_

Feebly, she tried to lift her head, to protest this course of action- anywhere but back into the darkness- but the most she could do was flutter her eyelids open to be blinded by the daylight.

" _You need a hand there?"_

Something warm and strong was pressed against her back, and before she could register what was happening-

" _Nah, she's not heavy."_

-she was being lifted skyward into a world where warmth cushioned her, surrounded her on all sides, enveloped her. It was oddly comfortable in a way she couldn't put her finger on, but there was a niggling thought worming into the remains of her brain that insisted that she should be disgusted right now. She didn't listen to it. She didn't have the strength.

" _Wow. She's really_ _not_ _heavy."_

" _What do you need me to do?"_

Voices. Damnable voices disrupting her, hurting her head, making the world spin. The worst part was she couldn't understand a word.

" _I told you. Go get Katara."_

Katara. Cah. Taar. Ah. What _was_ it? A vegetable? Cartaarah. A kind of shellfish? Tarka Rah. Something more abstract, perhaps? Kah rah rah.

Maybe the slightly deeper voice had finally decided to be the one to name that feeling one gets when all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up at once. She had wondered for a long time what exactly that feeling should be called, and she supposed "khataraagh" was as good a name as any. It was certainly ominous enough, even if it did sound more like an exotic skin disease.

She couldn't escape the sneaking suspicion that she might not be of entirely sound mind just at this second. There didn't seem to be anything to do about it at this juncture, though, and slightly more oddly she didn't seem to _want_ to do anything at this moment. The immediacies were crowding out any possibility of thought.

And then there was shouting.

" _What the- …WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY SLEEPING BAG?"_

"… _What_ _did_ _she do to your sleeping bag?"_

" _She_ _killed_ _it! It's shredded, ruined! Gran-Gran made that for me! And she killed it!"_

Stop. Shouting.

She thought the two words as loudly and as angrily as she could in the general direction of the voice above her, but she couldn't seem to connect her brain to her vocal chords, and the wish went unvoiced.

" _Sokka. Stop being such a drama queen."_

" _Oh, it's okay for_ _you_ , _Toph._ _Your_ _sleeping bag isn't lying in shreds."_

" _I don't_ _have_ _a sleeping bag."_

" _Not. The. Point. Look, just go get Katara, okay."_

One set of footsteps retreated. And whoever was carrying Azula moved forward again, only a few steps, and then she was fumbled and thudded and bumped as she was awkwardly set down on something soft. The warmth retreated, and she reflexively curled into herself.

" _Alright,"_ the voice said, irritation plain. _"There. Now you just stay there this time, and no funny stuff. We've already got too many comedians around here anyway."_

She _did_ wish whoever it was would stop talking. She was so tired, but he was stopping her rest with his incessant noise-making. Her head lolled to the side, eyes closed as she made a futile effort to turn away from the source of the irritation, before giving it up as a hopeless endeavour.

" _Yeah. That's what I_ _thought_. _So now you just stay still until Katara gets here, and you'd better not make trouble for her, okay? I'll be watching you."_

If there was more, Azula heard none of it, slipping down into long-overdue oblivion.

–

She woke again. Blinking into the grey light, a dim scene played out before her eyes, the grey stone of the ceiling wavering and blurring and another blink and the world slowly faded into focus.

Her first instinct was to move.

"Don't try to sit up."

And already she was being ordered around.

"Here. Drink this," a voice said, and before she could so much as blink a water-skin was being thrust into her limited field of vision. A hand tried to coax it toward her lips, but Azula shook her head fiercely at the indignity. Someone had tied lead to her hands, but she dragged one arm up from her side, and snatched drunkenly at the neck of the water-skin.

It wasn't until the water brushed her lips that she realised how parched her throat was.

"Hey, slow down, you don't want to choke." Feminine voice. Young, but motherly. Azula hated it already.

Slowly, haltingly, Azula exhaled, and with a short bark of exertion, jerked her head forwards, the momentum dragging her inch by inch, her spine curling until she flopped upwards into a sitting position. Her hair dangled raggedly before her eyes, tangled and matted with aged sweat, and beyond that curtain she thought she could see a vaguely blue shape.

It turned out to be a person. Blue clothes. Brown skin.

Water Tribe. She had been captured by the Water Tribe.

Azula was just coherent enough to recognise this as trouble.

Escape? No. Out of the question. She could barely sit up as she was.

What could she do?

Pray. Pray they didn't know who she was. Pray that she remained undiscovered until she was strong enough to run.

Run. The thought was ridiculous. Run _where_?

Secondary concern. Escape was her priority, but she couldn't be premature. Sit and wait and hope these people just assumed she was some Earth Kingdom peasant, then steal anything she could carry and run as fast as she could.

Suddenly, a voice cut across her thoughts, shattering them.

"Hey, Katara. Our guest up?"

And then everything changed. Because Azula recognised the speaker.

It was the last airbender.

Azula had not been taken by the Water Tribe after all.

–

She was alone now. The Avatar had been keen to interrogate her, but Azula had demanded a while to gather her thoughts, and the Avatar had acquiesced. She had been left in her antechamber of the cave with a small bowl of broth and time to think.

Azula had been handed to the Avatar. This was... a surprising development, to say the least.

Her first reaction was horror- because the Avatar was the sworn enemy of the Fire Nation- then confusion- why would the Avatar keep her, after she had displayed firebending (she remembered that much, although not clearly)- then realisation. The Avatar needed a teacher. He needed to learn firebending.

And he would expect her to teach him.

Suddenly, it seemed she had a bargaining chip.

Then suddenly she realised something else.

The Avatar was not the sworn enemy of the Fire Nation. He was the sworn enemy of the _Fire Lord_.

In fact, Azula had not been handed to the Avatar. The Avatar had been handed to _her_.

Provided she was very, _very_ careful.

–

Eventually, she finished her broth, taking comfort in the heat of the meal, and staggered out into the main chamber, where the Avatar was waiting for her, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room.

He was not alone. Azula's first thought was that the Water Tribes girl was with him, slouched up against a wall, but no, this was a boy. Unless the one from before had been a boy all along.

No, no water-skin. Machete instead. Also a club. And a boomerang. And something that could only be called a knife because he didn't seem the type to be carrying around a meat cleaver.

 _Probably_ not a bender then. Or at least not a good one.

"Hey," the Avatar said, and, to Azula's vague confusion, gave a small wave.

She blinked, apparently in response, as the Avatar took this as an opportunity to continue speaking.

"My name's Aang, this is Sokka," he said, waving his hand at the Water Tribe boy against the wall, who didn't move, or say anything at all. "What's your name?"

And Azula froze.

Her first instinct was to lie. She quashed the feeling instantly, and thought instead.

Lying provided immediate anonymity. That would be good if she planned to string these people along until she was strong again, and then escape. She would have lied in any other situation.

But this was the Avatar. The most powerful figure in the world. And and unparalleled opportunity. She should make an ally of him, if she could.

Besides, he seemed as guileless as a newborn, she thought, observing his wide grin and wider eyes. He wouldn't know Princess Azula, which meant she got to control when she revealed that.

"Azula," she answered.

The Water Tribes boy pushed himself off the wall, raising an eyebrow.

" _Really_ ," he drawled.

"Really," she responded, blankly.

The Avatar seemed a little lost.

"Okay.  Hi, Azula.  D'you wanna sit down?  You look kind of..." he reached desperately for something tactful to say "tired."

Azula should have refused. Should have remained standing, as a matter of pride. But her legs, upon hearing the word 'sit', decided that they had done quite enough work for one day, and dropped Azula on the floor gratefully.

The Water Tribes boy shifted again, restless.

"So, uh, 'Azula'," the Water Tribe boy said, pushing himself up off the wall, "I was wondering-"

Azula couldn't help but smirk. It wasn't up to her, after all, whether or not this idiot believed her when she told the truth.

"Yeah, thanks for the smirking, very ominous, but seriously. What _happened_ to you?"

Azula blinked.

"What... happened to... when? What are you talking about?"

The Avatar coughed.

"Well, when we found you, you were-"

"Surrounded by bodies. Fire Nation soldiers, actually. Mind explaining what's up with that?"

"Sokka!"

_Raindrops plastering her hair down her face, irritating her eyes. Feet tangled in the undergrowth. Water pattering on the leaves. Thunder rolls._

_Thunder rolls. Lightning highlights armour among the trees. Voices raised. "Nothing to say"-"cannot disobey my orders"-"If it's a fight you want"-"So be it!"_

_Duck-dodge-strike one-two bust of fire -hold the middle!- one down two down Zuko on the flanks- screaming-charging-lightning-dancing-on-her-fingertips-ZUKO!-don't-look-up-NO. Body jerked backwards tumbling into the undergrowth dead before he hits the ground no no no. Chest twisted mass of charred flesh gold eyes looking at nothing._

"Azula? Are you-"

"I think she broke."

"Sokka, don't you think you shouldn't-"

_No not meant to happen PROTECT YOUR BROTHER turn stand failure angry-_

"Hey, it'll get her attention if nothing ow ow please let go that's my finger you're breaking ow please don't do that that really hurts you know please stop bending it like that fingers aren't supposed to go that way ow that hurts really quite a lot you know"

"-poke her in the head."

_-Lightning fizzing in the rain bring arm up down up can't focus PAIN black._

"seriously that's still my finger and if you could see your way to giving it back I'd really be grateful especially if you stop trying to break it thanks a bunch in advance that's great please let go now."

Azula shook her head, and released the boy's finger.

The Avatar shook his head.

"Look, Azula, would it help if we told you where we found you?"

"Yes," she replied, looking up. "That would help."

It was the wood, Azula understood, where she had been found. At the scene of the fight- the dead had been left where they had fallen, and they had assumed her dead. The one who had taken Zuko's life was counted among the dead, from the Water Tribe boy's description. Azula didn't know what to think about that. Azula had been unconscious, badly burnt, and bleeding, they said. She would have died in a matter of hours.

And then the unlikeliest of things had happened. The Avatar had arrived on the scene. Purely by accident, stumbling over the battlefield like a blind man. And then one of the party- Toph, they called her, as though the name meant anything to Azula- had found her. And another, Katara, had healed her.

The words were unreal, floating around her like clouds. It was as though she was hearing the fate of some distant stranger.

"What did you do with the dead?' she asked, dully.

The Avatar looked sad, and small, but he answered.

"We cremated them. I mean- that is what you're supposed to do, isn't it? I didn't know all the prayers, but we did what we could."

A cremation. That was acceptable. Yes, that was-

She couldn't stick with one thought for long. It was all so unreal.

"Did you save anything? Any trinkets?" she tried to mask the sudden desperation in her voice- but the thought that there was nothing, nothing but the painful memories left of him-

The Water Tribe boy gave her a long, cool look.

"There was something. One of the bodies- he was different. Wasn't dressed like a soldier. We guessed you might've been connected, so we saved these for you." Walking over to the corner, where some bags were kept, he picked up something and turned, handing it to Azula.

Zuko's broadswords, sitting in their scabbard. She snatched at them, turning them over in her hands, fingers brushing every contour of the sheath. And then she saw the burned patch, blackened and charred, a scar on the leather.

There was only one way that the scabbard could have been burnt like that- when the bolt of lightning had passed through Zuko's... back...

She dropped the swords like they burned her. Setting them aside, she tried not to look at them.

There was something she should ask. A question she needed the answer to.

_Where is my mother?_

She tried, and the words died on her lips. She couldn't. She couldn't even _ask_. Couldn't bear the thought of knowing, _knowing_ that she was the only one left. That would kill her.

She couldn't take the risk of knowing, so she didn't ask.

"You wish to know," she said, instead. "You wish to know why? That seems acceptable.

"I am the daughter of a prominent noble, who until recently was a member of the War Council." She closed her eyes just for the briefest of seconds, banishing the image of a tall man slipping out the library door. "Apparently, he was for some time involved in a plot to depose the Fire Lord and end the war."

The Avatar brightened up, but the Water Tribe boy snorted under his breath. Azula understood. Her account sounded like the exact thing someone would think the Avatar would want to hear.

"He was caught, and murdered. Not executed." Keep talking, don't think about it, just keep talking. "No trial, he wasn't even placed under arrest. Murdered.

"We fled the city that night. Some of Father's associates" the word conjured up the swordsmaster in a flash of anger "attempted to help our escape, and got us as far as the Earth Kingdom, before abandoning us. The Fire Lord had sent soldiers after us. They caught us.

"They killed my brother. They tried to kill me. I know what you want from me, Avatar, and the answer is yes. I will teach you firebending, as soon as I am strong again. In return, you will stand aside when the time comes, and I will kill Fire Lord Iroh."

–

It was the evening. She was resting, alone, in the antechamber.

She had been excused any formal introductions to the other members of the Avatar's party. The interrogation had been the limit of what her weakened body could bear, and the Avatar was worried she could catch a sickness if too much stress was put on her body. So she was given food and water, and told to rest.

She was so tired. The day had been rushed and confusing and full of too much information to take in all at once.

So she lay down and closed her eyes, hoping that for one night at least she might be allowed to get some rest.


	23. Paranoia

_Or,_

_ You Might Have Heard I Run With a Dangerous Crowd- We ain't too Pretty, We ain't too Proud. _

–

One night. That's all I ask for.

One _damn night_ where I don't have to get up in the middle of my rest because huge unpleasant people are seeking to practice violence upon my person. One night where I don't have to leave via the window. One night where nobody is trying to kill me. One night completely bereft of fireballs, explosions, or shouting.

Is that _really_ too much to ask?

Apparently so.

Oh, I hate my life sometimes.

–

Azula had time to think, at last.

Her first full day among the Avatar's troupe had been confusing, loud, irritating, and had left her entirely off-balance. There had been too much information, assaulting her all at once, and she only now had time, sitting alone in her antechamber with another bowl of weak but hot broth, to sift through it all and try to make some sense of it.

The first thing that she had realised when she had begun to move about the cave (or, more accurately, cave network) was that she was _weak._ Muscles had atrophied, every step was unsure, and her hands shook as though she had aged fifty years.

Clearly, this had to be addressed.

But already she could see an obstacle, an impediment to accomplishing even this relatively simple task.

As if on cue, Azula heard raised voices drifting through from the main chamber.

"Are you _mad_?"

Ah. The obstacle herself, the waterbender. The stupid girl had gotten it in her head that Azula was actually _ill_ , and in danger of death, were she not plied with water and blankets at every turn. Honestly, did she _look_ like an invalid?

Azula paused momentarily, before resolving to locate a mirror and examining herself for signs of invalidity the next time she had the opportunity.

"Sokka, we have on our hands a very fragile girl. Her immune system is shot, she'll barely be able to keep down anything _solid_ , and you're bringing back _shellfish_? Are you _trying_ to make her sick?"

Azula thought perhaps she should have been consulted before this interfering child decided how ill she was or wasn't.

"Katara. Katara, stop talking for a second and listen to me. Katara, I can hear you, you know. Katara, I know you are by nature a girl, and as such are not equipped to deal with the realities of things like hunting, so I'm going to be patient with you, but you need to understand. We. Are. By. The. Ocean. Shellfish is what there _is_ , Katara. Should I look further afield tomorrow? Spend another eight hours wandering through the scrubland? Do you think I'm gonna trip over a vegetable soup tree? I'm trying to understand your female brain here."

Ah, the Other One. Azula was still puzzling him out. Refreshingly, he seemed to be the only member of the group that was outwardly hostile towards her, which she had found mildly amusing. Frankly, though, she wasn't yet sure what his role was in the group. He was just... there, for the most part. He had been the one to go hunting that day, and he had lit the fire, and done small tasks of that nature. Was he just there as another pair of hands, perhaps? It was possible.

And now she knew that they were near the shore. Likely to be irrelevant, but every little helped.

A young, worried voice interjected, cutting off what Azula was certain would have been a magnificent explosion from the waterbender.

"Katara, how about I go with Sokka tomorrow? We could take Appa, go into town or something-"

"No" echoed back in two voices.

"Aang, you know why we-" "Aang, you really should keep-" "Oh, sorry, you go first."

The waterbender continued speaking.

"Aang, you know you've got to keep practising your earthbending."

"Katara," the Avatar... there was no other word for it. He _whined_. "You _know_ I've gotten a lot better at earthbending. I can take a couple of hours off."

"He is better, ya know," the fourth and final voice struck up. "I mean, better than when he started. Still a way from being any _good_ , but, you know. Take what you can get and all."

The earthbender. Azula had already dismissed her. She was a blunt instrument, nothing more. A grunt, good to have on their side when the fighting started, but nothing but a minor irritation otherwise. She was beneath consideration.

As for the Avatar...

"Hey, thanks, Toph, I really- hey, _wait_ a second."

Azula was willing to admit that there was probably more to him than she had seen, which was good, because what she had seen so far had been singularly unimpressive. He had been away for most of the day- in fact, almost all of them had been away for most of the day- presumably he had been training, but what little she had seen of him indicated that he was childlike, naïve, and hopelessly dim.

And yet he was the Avatar.

Puzzling.

She would have to wait a while, and observe some more.

–

It had started with a feeling.

I had been on Fire Nation soil for maybe a day and a half, and I was making good time through the woodlands that sat between the rocky grasslands of my home and the sea, and I had the most disquieting feeling that I was being followed.

A thorough examination of the area had yielded nothing, which was more worrying than otherwise- after all, if I had found someone, then that question would have been answered, but now all I had was a whole lot of nothing and a nagging suspicion that I had just alerted whoever was following me.

I had checked the sky, for the position of the sun. It was early evening, and there was a carrion bird overhead.

I took this as an inauspicious sign, and picked up the pace, determined to find a coaching inn before sundown.

–

I happened upon a suitable establishment- one of the larger sorts of inns, shaped like a gigantic U, the inn balanced atop the stables, one of those buildings that is distinguished from the thousands like it only by virtue of location- in good time, but not as good as I could have hoped- the sunlight was glancing across the treetops as I walked into the courtyard.

Hmm.

I walked into the foyer, the warm breeze of the evening replaced by the stuffy warmth of an inadequately-windowed room, and glanced quickly at the board of keys behind the desk.

Hmm.

I ducked outside again, back into the fresh air, and glanced around the courtyard, and counted the lit windows.

I ducked back inside again, and pretended to look at the dismal selection of books kept in the foyer for the look of the thing. I was really keeping my eye on the sets of keys.

After a little while, I went outside again.

Now, do I assume right-to-left? Or left to right? Flip a coin.

After a while, I had to resort to sketching out a rough map of the inn in the dust of the courtyard with my toe. I took pains to scrub it out afterwards, but it was still suspicious looking. There didn't seem to be anyone observing me, but I wasn't about to take a chance.

Eventually, I had my answer, and strode back inside.

"Evenin', mifter," the old man at the desk greeted me, through gums bereft of teeth.

"Hello," I said, nodding. "Do you have a room free? Number thirteen, if that's possible."

"Well, fertainly," he mumbled, clearly slightly off-put by the request.

"I only ask because I stayed here before once, and I stayed in number thirteen then," I assured him with quite commendable earnestness, if I do say so myself.

"Well, that'sh alright then," he said, with all the genuine enthusiasm that comes from serving a repeat customer. "Thish way."

–

I have never stayed at this inn before, of course. I chose room thirteen because it is opposite room fourteen, and room fourteen has a good view of the courtyard, and, importantly, is _empty_.

I will not be staying in room thirteen. In the Fire Nation, for me to stay in the room I was seen renting would be risky at the best of times, and the feeling from earlier in the evening has put me on edge. So I shall arrange a few pillows on the bed in the traditional fashion, break into room fourteen, stick the chair in front of the door, snatch about six hours sleep, then undo everything so I can be seen leaving room thirteen in the morning.

This is what we call 'paranoia', children. It's what keeps people like me alive.

–

It is two in the morning, and I wake without knowing why. The night is as dark as it is going to get, and the clouds across a bright moon leave strange patterns on the ceiling, like shadows of smoke. There seems to be no reason for my sudden return to the land of the conscious.

Then the floorboard creaks, long and low, as though something very _heavy_ is pressing down carefully upon it.

Aha. So it begins.

A second footfall, but this time there is a distinctly metallic _thunk_ to the sound- it rings too long for it to be an armoured boot- it must be some kind of mechanical device. Curious.

I hold my breath as a foot falls again, and I can hear the weight so clearly behind it I half expect to hear splintering wood as the floorboards give way completely.

I hold my breath as I hear a fist close around the doorknob to number thirteen.

Then I make my mistake. Instinctively, I reach down to the side of the bed, and slowly draw my small dagger.

There is a sudden cessation of noise from the corridor.

Then there is the unmistakable creak of someone turning around.

Damnit damnit _damnit._ Shouldn't have done that. Now, how long will the door hold?

I roll out of bed, away from the door, as my question is answered. There's a sound of crunching wood as a dark fist simply _smashes_ through the door, ripping the entire thing from its hinges and yanking it out into the darkness of the hallway.

There's nothing outside. Or rather, as my eyes adjust to the gloom, whatever is outside is blocking the entire doorway.

I stand, dagger in hand, as the dark figure stoops, and bends through the doorway.

Suddenly, there's a sound like flint on tinder, and two brief orange sparks in the blackness.

Then the world turns white.

–

Ow.

Ow.

_Ow._

I am _very_ glad I decided to keep the window open.

But... what _was_ that? Some kind of explosive device?

I hold a hand up to my head as I stand up, trying to hold my thoughts in as I stagger up on unsteady legs. But really, try jumping out of a first-storey window twenty seconds after you wake up even without the exploding hitman, see how coherent _you_ are.

Speaking of which.

I peered up into the darkness, back at the window I had recently used in my self-defenestration.

The figure was there, staring back.

Two flicks of orange in the darkness.

This time I was ready.

–

So here I am, crouching in the darkness, hiding behind the water-butts, while a giant man with an explosive forehead is trying to kill me.

I tell you, my life.

Oh well, complaining about it isn't going to help.

He's- where is he- look up oops duck down again- maybe ten feet away. Moving in a slow circle. He knows I'm here. Logical thing to do is-

–

Blow up the water-butts. Right. I've got no cover. I've got a dagger and half a sword. What do I do?

Charge.

I run as fast as my legs will carry me, kicking up dust as I sprint towards the looming figure, who calmly swings into a stance, his strange metal gauntlet held in front of him, like a shield. (And why is he wearing that thing? Armour? A fashion statement? Was he just tired of people squeezing his fingers when they shook his hand?)

This isn't as insane as it looks. Really, it isn't. If I keep close to him he won't be able to use his strange power for fear of blowing himself up.

Of course, that leaves me with a dagger against an eight-foot behemoth, but I can _deal_ with that sort of problem. I'm not equipped to deal with explosions while I'm trying to sleep, but giant thugs I can work with.

The gauntlet snakes up to deflect the jab, as expected, but that's my target, slipping the point of the dagger into his wrist, between the seams of the armour. Try seeing how effectively you fight with a knife in an artery, you...

He's not bleeding. He didn't even flinch.

It's not- no, it _can't_ be- _I saw him flex that hand_!

I'm so stunned I don't even protest when he twists his arm, wrenching my dagger- still lodged in the apparently fake appendage- away from my grip. I recover just in time to dodge a punch that looked like it would have taken my head from my shoulders, and I duck past him, slamming a foot into his knee as I run past him, and vault over the low wall of the stables, landing among the komodo-rhinos.

I draw my broken sword, and get to work, severing tethers and slapping the beasts with the flat of my blade, moving fast past the growing riot, and before six seconds have passed the entire stable is a writhing mass of angry monster, and it's only a matter of seconds before the walls break and a stampede gives me the cover I need to steal one of the creatures and ride as fast as I can as far away from that man as possible.

–

It is some hours later. To my vague distress, the sun is rising.

Who _was_ that man? A freelancer, some kind of mercenary? No, we'd surely have heard of him if he was. Surely. Perhaps he's an agent of the Fire Lord? After all, he employs an extensive spy network, it's far from impossible that he'd keep a collection of agents around whose talents leant more towards termination than intelligence-gathering.

He's going to be a problem, whoever he is. That much is pretty clear.

"Piandao, I swear, you're hopeless. You can't get chased by watchmen, or soldiers, or spies, or beautiful women that want to give you cake, can you? No, _you_ have to get hunted by the eight-foot tall man with the metal hand and the explosion-shooting brain, don't you. Whatever shall we do with you. _Stop talking to yourself!"_

Oh, I need sleep.


	24. Idiots in the Mist

_Or,_

_ I Seldom End up Where I Wanted to go, But Almost Always End up Where I Need to Be. _

–

I was not about to take any more chances. The only time I left the saddle was to eat, sleep, and relieve myself, and _yes,_ it is as painful as it sounds. Anything other than a komodo-rhino would have died after a few days, but my beast was very obliging and obedient and only very occasionally did it dive off into the undergrowth to violently maul and subsequently messily devour a deer. Something that always distressed me slightly, because there was never enough left for me afterwards.

I was forced to live off the land, of course, and that brought with it a strange kind of nostalgia. I have... _memories_ of my first encounter with the idea, in spite of my best efforts.

I was twelve years old, and I had just survived my first real battle. An ambush by raiders in the colonies- we weren't even going into battle, just a column of young boys and a few real soldiers acting as guards, heading to another camp, where we would complete our training.  They attacked as the sun went down, and I was _extremely_ lucky to live through it. I acquitted myself well in the mêlée, according to my sergeant, by which he meant I survived with all my limbs attached, and I even managed to keep hold of my sword. I don't remember a great deal about the battle, to be honest. It was dark and loud and noisy and utterly chaotic, and I was more concerned with just staying alive than anything else.

The following two weeks, however, I remember in great detail. We were scattered by the ambush, and I was one of about a dozen that had managed to stay with the sergeant. We were lost in the middle of the wilderness, two weeks' march from friendly territory, and we had no supplies of any kind.

If there had been farms in the area, we could have plundered them. If there had been villages in the area, we could have done a bit of impromptu requisitioning. If there had been a town in the area, we could have all checked ourselves into a nice hotel or something. But there was nothing but rocks and trees for miles around, which at the time struck me as very inconsiderate.

I still remember the thrill of horror that ran down my spine the first time someone shoved the delicate dish known as Burnt-Half-Eaten-Rat-On-A-Stick in my face, and told me that was my meal for the day. That sort of thing is just terrible to do to a growing boy.

–

Azula was fairly sure she was setting a record. It was barely her second conscious day with this new group, and already she was hunting one of them down with murder on her mind.

But in all fairness, the stupid animal _had_ stolen her hairpin.

Why in Agni's name did the Avatar have a lemur following him around anyway? What _possible_ purpose could it serve?

She had been about to tie her hair up (something she had been forced to learn to do _herself_ , to her mild horror) that morning, when out of absolutely _nowhere_ this streak of fur had literally snatched the hairpin out of her hands and vanished.

Azula was fairly sure she didn't have to put up with this nonsense. The Avatar, of course, had been completely unhelpful when she had complained about the stupid creature, and had apparently treated the whole thing as a _joke_. So Azula had announced her intention to kill the animal and take her possession back. It was hardly _her_ fault that the Avatar had assumed she was joking.

–

Azula was getting _very_ annoyed. It had been a full _hour._ Every so often, she would catch a glimpse of a tail, or a stupid oversized ear, and she would rush around the corner, except by then the damned thing would be _long_ gone. The lemur was _taunting_ her.

Azula flicked a strand of hair out of her eyes as she stalked through the cavern network. Up ahead, there were the sounds of conversation, and out of force of habit, she slowed to a halt, in case eavesdropping told her anything useful.

" _Hey Sokka."_ The Avatar.

" _Hey, Aang_. _"_ The One She Hadn't Found An Acceptable Label For Yet.

" _How you doing?"_

" _Not bad, I guess. Anything need doing right now?"_

" _Actually, yeah. I was gonna go give Appa a brush, but I've got to go back to practice now. You don't think you could..."_

" _Sure, sure."_

" _Thanks, Sokka. You know he doesn't like caves and stuff. Enclosed spaces. I mean, I don't like it much either, but at least I can go outside and-"_

" _I get you, Aang. I actually think Katara's actually got it into her head that we should get moving again soon anyway. I think it might be because of our, you know. Guest."_

There was nothing else of much note, and after maybe thirty seconds of listening to their excessively small talk, Azula turned back to her search for the accursed lemur.

–

Four. Hours.

It had been _four hours_.

She was going to _skin_ that lemur, and she was going to _wear it as a hat_.

–

_Ha._

It had been a long, arduous, _painfully_ annoying, and very, _very_ stupid hunt, but it was finally about to end. Because the dumb thing had trapped itself in the large antechamber that housed the ...other creature. The one that made the disquieting noises. But still, the bison at least had a _purpose._

And the lemur was trapped.

This time, she would not rush. She would be methodical, cover the exit, and make sure the creature had no chance of escape.

So she crept into the chamber with slightly less grace than she would have liked, but luckily that didn't seem to matter much, since her quarry was completely distracted.

Azula found herself watching the scene before her with something almost approaching amusement. The boy was perched on what looked to be a small ladder, armed with a brush that had probably been used to sweep floors somewhere, but now was apparently repurposed as the sky bison's grooming tool.

"Hey, I know, big guy, you wanna be flying again. I know, I know, relax. Look, I'll see if I can get Katara to let Aang have a proper break tomorrow, and he can come spend some, I don't know, quality time doing whatever Avatars and their Spirit Animals do. Recite prayers? Meditate? …D'you think incense candles work on sky bison? You know, those ones that make you all drowsy? Oh, hey Momo, what's- what're you- you're attempting to jam something into my ear. That's nice, but please stop now. Ow, okay seriously stop that now. Yes, I know she's behind me, Momo, but I'm _busy_. What _is_ this thing, anyway?"

"A hairpin," Azula supplied, ever helpful.

"Oh. Looks kinda like some kind of fancy toothpick." The muted hostility in his voice was abruptly put on hold as he contemplated the hairpin.

Azula scowled. "It isn't, and I would appreciate it back."

"Sure," he replied, offhandedly, and tossed the hairpin down from his perch, not even turning to look at her. Bending forwards in the nick of time, Azula just barely managed to catch it between fore- and middle fingers.

Ugh.

She had to start training again, and she had to start _soon_.

The boy had turned back to his task, acting as though Azula were no longer in the room. Petulant. Childish.

Well, it could hardly hurt to test him.

After two minutes he began to whistle, loudly. After three he switched to humming. To Azula's mild relief he didn't escalate up to actual singing, but eventually petered out and turned to glower at her.

"You still here?" the boy asked, with the bad grace of a poor loser.

"Yes," Azula replied, simply.

"... Okay then," he replied, and continued his grooming of the sky bison.

Great, now she had to think of a legitimate reason she was staying around, otherwise he would take that as implicit admittance of the fact that she was just trying to annoy him.

"Actually, I do have a question."

"Mm hmm."

Azula continued, undaunted. "Why, exactly, did you take up residence in a cave that is quite literally a maze?"

He actually paused at that, and seemed to chuckle.

"Actually, it was just the main chambers when we got here. Toph had Aang hollow out some more passages as practice, and I told them to keep at it. Keeps 'em busy, and besides, you never know when you might end up needing a few miles of poorly-lit caves, right?"

"Well of course," Azula replied, on automatic, while her brain picked over his sentence. Something about it had bothered her.

What kind of person just 'told' the Avatar to do anything? What kind of mental image did that throw up? A great king? A wise master? Did a scruffy, gangly barbarian teenager spring to mind?

Azula would have to observe more. She had to unravel the dynamics of the Avatar's group, and quickly, but she couldn't afford to make mistakes. This warranted caution.

–

It has been three days since the attack on, and my subsequent flight from, the coaching inn, and I am examining my motives.

I intended to go home at first, at least for a little while. For any number of reasons, but primarily for the following: 1: it has many things I have found myself lacking recently, such as clean clothes in my size and (decent) swords that aren't broken; 2: it represents an opportunity for some _much_ needed rest; and 3: it is a stable and solid place for communications to be sent to me. I _had_ hoped to enter the Fire Nation undetected, and if possible remain at home undiscovered until the eclipse.

It does not seem as though that is possible any more. Well, the 'undetected' bit seems to have been blown out of the water, anyway.

Now, I have to ask myself this. Is it worth drawing whoever that was that attacked me back to my home town? Surely they must know where I am headed. I mean, it's not as though I purchased my house with any regard to subtlety.

If this... bounty hunter? Mercenary? … _Specialist_ were not an issue, my being at home would inevitably cause problems for the townspeople. If another force were sent to extract me, it is far from probable that the people will be treated with any consideration.

They didn't, you know. Send another force, I mean. Not until Iroh was crowned. In their last attempt they fared rather poorly, and I suppose they didn't want to have another go in case it went just as badly. Besides, by that point they were fending off the last great counter-offensive from the Northern Earth Kingdom, and they didn't have the resources to waste on frivolous exercises like chasing Piandao out of his hole.

Besides, in that scenario raw numbers are far from their greatest asset. After all, I have very strong walls, lots of food, and when it comes down to it, I also have a koi pond that should really actually be called a Looks-Like-A-Koi-Pond, because your average koi pond isn't lined with spikes, several gallons of boiling oil (which is alarmingly useful against firebenders, since their instinctive reaction to _anything_ that startles them is 'Shoot A Fireball At It') about thirty dummy corridors, trapdoors of all kinds, one of those things that goes _whoosh_ and swings down from the ceiling and takes half your torso away with it, and an explosive rockery.

In case you were wondering, this is why I live in about seven rooms of a house designed to accommodate up to a hundred. Well, what _else_ was I supposed to do with it? In event of an assault, there is precisely _one_ perfectly safe route up to the lookout tower. Fat and I have memorised it, and I have left in various places several maps labelled 'In Case Of Emergency'. These all invariably lead directly into the thing that goes _whoosh_ and swings down from the ceiling and takes half your torso away with it.

When it comes to home security, the Fire Nation do _not_ mess around.

And of course aside from all that I also have a very sharp sword and a very scary reputation, which does half the work for me most of the time.

So an army is not the ideal tool for extracting me. The …specialist, on the other hand, is. He seems more siege weapon than man, and I somehow doubt he'd fall for (or rather, in) the Looks-Like-A-Koi-Pond.  The jury's still out on the thing that goes _whoosh_.  And he doesn't seem to be the kind of man that relies on precise aiming.

The thing is, though.  He's going to come after me.  No matter where I go, he's going to come after me.  And unless I stick to the wilderness until he does, then there are always going to be people around.

It's always better to fight on familiar ground.

After all, I can set everything up for him, and maybe even get a fresh pair of trousers too.

–

The day following the encounter in the sky bison's chamber, Azula set foot outside for the first time since falling unconscious.

The cave opened onto a scrubby beach, grey sand pushed up against the sea. The day was cloudy, but the sun was high in the sky, the brightness of early summer washing over her, filling her up with strength and energy and she _moved_.

Slowly, at first. A basic kata, without fire. Every movement laboured, deliberate. Tentatively testing out weakened muscles. The complex pattern of interlocked movements and sudden stops called to her like an old friend and carelessly she began to move faster and faster, never letting a step go wrong and as she accelerated through the movements she couldn't stop the reflexive bunching of chi and fitful sparks coughed from her fingers and it was too much.

She dropped to her knees, denting the packed sand, her ribcage contracted, spearing her lungs. Every breath was fire. Every second was pain.

She felt like laughing. That pain- the pain of exertion, of effort, the pain that went hand in hand with knowing that you were stronger for it, that pain was _welcome_.

A few weeks, and she might even start to feel like herself again.

–

The days following were spent in training. Slower than she had hoped- the waterbender had not been as wrong as Azula would have liked- but progress was progress.

Then the patrol came.


	25. Catching Up

_Or,_

_ Home is a Place You Grow Up Wanting to Leave, and Grow Old Wanting to Get Back to _

–

Shu Jing.

I crest the last hill before the canyon as the sun begins to set, curling behind the mountain ahead of me. Across the deep gorge, at the base of the long slope of the mountains, the town rests. Below the town, along the wall of the gorge, a multitude of tiny waterfalls cascade down into the river below, the white froth of the water a stark contrast to the warm stone of the cliff. I'm told the water comes from a vast underground spring, deep within the mountains. It may be true- I am no geologist. But I know the soil around here is fine, and the fruit trees grow strong and tall in the land around Shu Jing.

I ride close, keeping the gorge by my left side, as I approach the bridge. North of here, the gorge has its origins up in the cliffs and canyons of the scrubland. They say these ancient scars in the land were torn by the fury of some long-forgotten Avatar, but in the same breath they will swear it was the work of angry spirits, or some mythical army of earthbenders, or they will say it is the river that has caused these rifts, something I don't pretend to understand.

I had left the stolen komodo-rhino behind some days before, trading it for passage on one of the barges that sail out this way, so I headed into the village slowly, becoming immersed in the place again one step at a time.

As I cross the bridge I start to hear the sounds- children laughing, feet tramping the dirt, the lowing of cattle, the murmur of conversation, a burst of laughter from the tavern. I feel myself almost starting to smile.

I cross the bridge, and stop dead as the town hits me like a blow to the face. The smells of cooking meat from a hundred fires, the sound of the evening breeze hushing through the trees, the feel on my skin of air just beginning to cool from a long day in the summer's heat, the echoing whisper of the roaring waters down in the canyon, the subtle _thump_ of packed dirt beneath my feet that gives way to the almost liquid _crunch_ of loose fragments of earth dusting the flagstones, a sudden _splash_ as a bucket drops into the well and I remember now that the water in Shu Jing is as fresh and crisp as you have ever tasted, and there, beneath it all, underpinning everything is the scent I remember- the subtle bitter-sweetness of incense.

I am home.

It is... comforting. To see the place so unchanged. It makes me feel... I don't know. Perhaps it makes me feel that not everything I am doing is in vain. It's good to remember what I am fighting for, sometimes.

It's hard, after a while, to fight for an abstract, and to me "peace" is just about the most abstract concept you could imagine. I would have an easier time fighting for a fruit flan, when all is said and done. After all, once you have your fruit flan, at least you know what to do with it. You could say that I am fighting for my friends, except all my friends are dead or fighting for themselves anyway, and none of them particularly need my help on that count. I can no longer say that I fight for the Fire Nation, not since Kyoshi and the events leading up to it. I _cannot_ fight for the good of the Order- can you imagine anything quite so destructive as the Order of the White Lotus doing battle on its own behalf? So I have to fight for something, or I will just be fighting for myself, or even worse, fighting for the sake of the fight.

So if I fight for anything at all, you can say I fight for Shu Jing.

–

I walked through the town almost as though I was dreaming. Everything seemed muted, hushed rumblings just on the edge of perception. I think I was almost aware of people surreptitiously turning to notice me, but it was like I was pushing through warm water.

Perhaps I was simply exhausted.

–

If I was not exhausted walking through the village, the long road up to my house certainly finished the job. By the time I pulled myself up to the gates I was utterly, utterly spent.

Fat greeted me at the door with some of the most welcome news I had ever heard.

"Master. Several letters have arrived in your absence, and I prepared some supper when I noticed your imminent arrival, so you do not attempt to read them on an empty stomach."

"Marvellous," I managed. "But I think I need a bath first, before this shirt actually becomes part of me."

"Of course, Master. I took the liberty of drawing a bath for you as well. Although" and here his eyebrow twitched an errant fraction "you may wish to put off shaving until the morning, at least."

I didn't think I should stand for being sassed by my own butler, and fixed him with the steeliest gaze I could manage. It was more a pig-iron gaze, given my current state, but I tried my best.

"Fat, the day I cannot be trusted to hold a blade is the day I... the day I..." I interrupted myself with a gargantuan yawn.

"-The day you get a proper night's rest before you hold a razor-blade to your own throat?"

I gave up. "Yes, all right. Now, I believe I shall bathe. Fetch a bottle of wine, would you?"

Fat didn't even blink. "Of course, Master."

Something unpleasant suddenly nudged my brain, and I realised that there was one more thing I should mention before giving in entirely to self-indulgence.

"Oh, and keep an eye out for a" I gestured vaguely somewhere about a foot above my head "tall chap. Got no hair, and a metal, thing, you know, wossname. Hand. Doesn't say much, makes explosions with his mind."

Fat nodded. "Does he have an appointment?"

I blinked. "I don't think so. He's trying to kill me."

"Of course. If he arrives, Master, I shall show him to the Unsightly Brown Drawing Room."

"Good man." After all, there's nothing in the Unsightly Brown Drawing Room that couldn't be made more aesthetically pleasing by a nice explosion or two.

"Thank you, sir. And if I may say so, it is good to see you haven't got yourself killed yet."

"It's not for lack of trying, I assure you."

–

The bath was heaven. After I don't remember how long- I of course washed on Kyoshi Island, but I wasn't there to relax- I was finally able to simply unwind, just for a little while. I lay back, my elbows resting over the lip of the bathtub, a cup of wine in one hand, as I stared at the winding paths of steam in the air.

The only thing stopping me from falling asleep then and there was the persistent nagging of hunger. Eventually, as the water began to cool, I finished my drink and stepped out of the tub. I found to my delight that Fat had laid out fresh clothes for me, and ten minutes later I was dried and dressed in my old familiar robes again and my hair was tied back up again and I almost felt like I was a human being again.

Dinner, unfortunately, was less relaxing. At my unwilling behest, Fat brought to the table a small stack of the most significant missives that had arrived for me, and I examined them as I ate. The …diversion at Kyoshi (Diversion. A nice, clean word.) had taken me out of the loop for a while, and now I was back at a base camp I needed to get back up to speed with the Plan.

As far as I could tell, Jeong-Jeong's altered plan had gone into effect within the week. At this stage, it doesn't look all that different from the previous version of the plan. The main difference is how many more tonnes of blasting jelly we're procuring.

The initial plan differed from Jeong-Jeong's variation in two places. The old plan centred around firstly reinstalling the Earth King at Ba Sing Se and using him as a figurehead to revitalise the resistance, and secondly, using our little midsummer advantage, kill Fire Lord Iroh, installing in his stead his brother (or, later, his nephew). It would have been difficult to consolidate our new Lord's rule, but we had been working hard to lower support for the war in the Fire Nation, and hopefully any peacemaker would have been supported, at least by the people.

Obviously, we can't use that one any more. So we revert to Jeong-Jeong's plan.

Which is simpler, if a little hard for me to stomach.

–

The next morning, there was much to attend to. Notes had arrived ahead of me, updates, debriefings, rumours, requests, and I had to look at all of them. Several required a yea or nay from me, and these were an annoyance beyond measure. I couldn't just go through them and consider each on their own merits and simply go yes, no, yes, yes, no, yes, no, yes, no no. That would be far too simple, and would probably only take me an hour or so. I had to be careful about what I was doing. I had to consider each request with regards to every other request and report I had. I couldn't afford to be cavalier about any of these decisions.

For example, I had a request here for my approval for a mission in the capital. Sabotage of a steel shipment heading out of the city. My first instinct is approval- it's a simple enough mission, from the outline I have been given here, and it falls under the parameters set for the next phase of the plan. But. The removal of Fat from the palace has had serious ramifications for the capital. Fat as our ear on the inside saved us unimaginable resources- he was able to find things out much easier than any outside agent, and with comparatively little risk to himself (there is a terrible tendency among the Fire Nation elite to class their servants as simply part of the furniture). He was useful in a hundred ways at the palace, and he allowed us to concentrate spies elsewhere. Now he is gone, there is an information vacuum in the capital. We simply _do not know enough_ to commit to overt action in the city.

So suddenly this routine mission is an unknown quantity.

I sign it no, and order the team instead to concentrate on being our eyes and ears in the city. And to avoid being killed, if they can.

And we'll just have to hope things don't get worse.

–

There is a gap in my information. A hole in the tapestry I have been weaving.

What is the Avatar doing? Surely June must have given a report somewhere.

A few minutes sifting through the stack of missives unearths a short note in June's unmistakably appalling scrawl. Aha.

She says... he's gone to gerund? No, that can't be... oh, _ground._ Right. He's gone to ground, in a cave on the western shore. She doesn't know why, and she doesn't want to risk getting too close. They're being very alert, apparently.

–

The earthbender saw them, or sensed them, or felt them- in any case, she noticed them first. Azula had been in the middle of a kata, and had been less than pleased when the diminutive figure had all but dragged her back into the cave and sealed the mouth behind them.

The others had been quick to arrive, the boy carrying a small torch to illuminate the gloom.

"Okay," he said, nodding at Toph. "What's going on?"

The earthbender paused for a second, and dropped to one knee, pressing a hand to the ground. She shook her head, and nodded, which everyone seemed to take as an indication that they should move further into the cavern. Azula followed, feeling out of the loop.

"Patrol," the earthbender said, when they were sitting in the bison's cavern. "About six, heading this way."

"How close?" the Avatar asked, worriedly.

"Close, getting closer. I didn't feel them coming, not over the sand. It was just a few vibrations, then boom, they were about a hundred metres away." She looked rattled, and Azula couldn't help but file away the discovery of the earthbender's potentially fatal weakness. It could be helpful later.

After all, you couldn't plan for _everything_.

"So," the Avatar said, and Azula found herself suddenly paying very close attention. If he acted like she thought he would... "What now?"

 _Yes._ Most people wouldn't have noticed, but Azula was looking for it.

The Avatar hadn't been able to stop himself looking straight at the boy as he'd asked, and Azula found this endlessly entertaining.

"We can't stay any longer, that's for sure," the boy said. "Toph, do you think we can pack up and leave without them noticing?"

"Wouldn't bet on it."

"Right, right, so first thing to do is take them out. We gotta make sure we don't leave any evidence that we were ever here. Toph, you deal with the patrol, everyone else, we gotta pack up."

"Wait," the waterbender started, as everyone started to move. "Don't you think we should figure out where we're going first?"

The boy shrugged. "I figured that was kind of a lower priority than being anywhere but here."

"We should decide now, or we'll just be wasting time once we're airborne."

"Katara, we're wasting time _now_."

Azula's attention faded as they began to argue, and she mulled over what had been confirmed.

So. The Avatar was not the leader of his little troupe.

Interesting. Still, it was heartening to see that the Avatar at least knew how to take orders.

"Okay, so anyone got any ideas? And it's got to be somewhere _safe_ , Aang. I'm sorry, but we can't just go anywhere." The waterbender had the floor, which was usually a cue that Azula didn't have to start listening again yet. "And somewhere _hygienic_ , Sokka. You remember that word?"

"Actually," the Avatar said, a slow grin on his face, "I think I have an idea."

–

She was staring at her little pile of possessions. There wasn't much- a change of clothes. Some odds and ends. A few pieces of moderately-valuable and easily-transportable jewellery. A book of poetry she had brought as a kind of instant disguise.

And a hairpiece. And a set of charred swords.

"Azula! Come _on_ , we have to go!"

The waterbender had few measurable talents, as far as Azula could see, but some of them surely had to involve shouting.

With sudden violence, she swept everything up, and threw it into her bag.

Hefting her entire life onto her shoulder, she headed towards the bison.

–

The escape was remarkably neat. From what she had seen, she would have expected a more hectic escape, with no less than three ironclads on their tail within ten minutes. Instead, she climbed onto the wide, flat saddle just as the beast lumbered into the evening twilight. Six unconscious men lay on the ground, and the earthbender sealed the cave behind them with a casual twist of the heel before clambering up the monster's tail.

The boy must have caught something in her expression, because he grinned.

"We've had a lot of practice in running away."

Azula tried her best to look withering.

"Yip-yip!" the Avatar yelled, and suddenly her insides wrenched down and to the left and her ears lurched sideways and her knuckles turned white as she gripped the saddle's lip and they were _flying_ , actually _flying_ , and Azula felt like she was going to throw up.

–

I spent the day giving orders, and by the time the sun sank behind the mountain, I realised I could take no more of it. I stood from my desk, and walked out onto the front porch, to admire the moonlight.

I always find it easier to think at night. Perhaps it helps my brain to keep cool. Perhaps there aren't any immediate distractions.

Whatever the reason, I stood for some time, watching the stars come out, as I thought about the Plan.

Jeong-Jeong's plan, to be precise.

Phase one of his plan, I have problems with. Phase two, on the other hand, I fear and loathe with every fibre of my being.

Phase one involves rousing the Earth Kingdom to bloody revolution. Phase two is concerned with choking the life out of the Fire Nation.

Phase one will happen. There is no doubt about that.

Phase two... I do not know. I do not want phase two to go into effect. I _do not_ want to give that order. But I will, of course. If I have no alternative, I will. …But what if there were an alternative? What would I do? How long will I wait for a chance? How many people will I let die to save the Fire Nation?

When it all comes down to it, whose side am I on anyway?

I don't have an answer for these questions, and in truth I don't really think about them. I just... file them away. For later.

All of a sudden, the night sky is ablaze.

Well, would you look at that. A meteor shower.


	26. The Butcher's Knife

_or,_

_ Don't be Shocked by the Tone of my Voice; Check out my New Weapon- Weapon of Choice. _

–

It was long past dawn, now, and looking to be a fine day. Half the village, it seemed, were still here, crowded in the field, recovering from an evening of some excitement.

"I have to thank you, Master. Damn good of you to raise the alarm like that."

Ping. A local farmer; it is his field we had worked to save from the blaze. Good man, respected in the community.

"I'm just thankful I was able to see it in time." It's been a dry evening in the area, and a blaze unchecked could have engulfed the town before anyone even woke. "Still, it was touch and go for a while there, wasn't it?"

"Too right," he grunts, into his moustache. "T'was a miracle no-one got killed. Still, I imagine that thing must have been a sight to see, huh? Fire from the sky." He gestures with one hand toward the source of the inferno, now sitting, gently cooling, in a large crater.

"You're right there," I said, and he was. It had been... startling.

The meteor shower itself had been breathtaking, but... relaxingly so. You couldn't think of doing anything but standing and watching as the universe turned around you. But that meteor had spoiled the mood. A screaming trail of fire, it had inspired not so much breathless awe as busy terror, especially once it had dawned on me that it was about to _land_.

All I had thought to do was run into the village as fast as I can and ring the bell. Someone else had taken charge from then- nobody needed to be told what was happening, not with the glow of a bush-fire on the horizon. They aren't uncommon in the Fire Nation, not away from the humidity of the jungles, anyway, and generally people know how to deal with such an occurrence.

Still. Touch and go, just for a while.

Someone is handing out large mugs of water, and I take one gratefully. I'm dehydrated from working in the bucket chain, and while it's not as bad as I have experienced, and I didn't actually receive any burns this time, it's still not a pleasant feeling.

"So," Ping says, as he wrings water from his moustache. "You're back in town."

Well, no sense in denying it. "I arrived yesterday evening."

"Huh. Lucky for me that you did, I suppose. Staying long?" he asks, abruptly. And not entirely politely.

"I... do not anticipate staying. Not for long."

"Work?" he asks, pointedly, his eyes flashing.

It's no secret that I am, in the Fire Nation, Public Enemy Number Two. By order of the Fire Lord, these people should either be attempting to detain me or running for their lives. But Shu Jing and the surrounding areas have been hit hard by the economic toll of the war. The ground isn't good for staple foods- even by Fire Nation standards- and the main economic basis of the area was in speciality items. They grew tea here, before higher-quality cheaper stuff from the colonies drove them out of business. They make things. Statues. Tools. I tried to help, while I lived here- I made swords, and sold them to the local weapons dealer for a pittance- but that was only for a short while.

This part of the country has been steadily sliding into abject poverty for many years, and that has made a lot of people very angry. Angry enough that they stood aside for me, ten years ago.

I hardly imagine the situation has improved since then.

"Yes," I answer, eventually. "You know how it is."

"Can't rightly say I do, I'm afraid. Still. Going well?" he asks, with deliberate nonchalance. Shu Jing has not openly rebelled. It will never openly rebel. If anyone were to ask, the residents of Shu Jing would be the most loyal servants of the Fire Lord you could ever hope to meet.

But they will stand aside for me, if they think it means an end to their troubles. Which, I hope, it will.

"On balance, I'd say so."

He just nods, apparently to himself, and shrugs.

"Still, you've done me a service, and I don't know how I'm going to pay you back."

Not with money, certainly. He could ill-afford any drain on his finances at the best of times, certainly not enough to satisfy the debt he now feels he owes, and _certainly_ not with one of his fields unusable for I don't know how long. Besides, I don't need money, in any case. Traditionally, I could marry one of his daughters, I suppose, but I believe he only has the one, and she's already married.

An oppressive silence falls, and we both turn back to stare at the newest addition to his field.

It's an impressive rock. Black as obsidian, with none of the gleam, it squats in its crater, indefinably and unmistakably alien. On a sudden impulse, I step forward, half striding half sliding down the edge of the crater until I find myself right in front of the meteorite, close enough to touch it.

It's still warm, my fingertips tell me, but that's not what I'm thinking about. My suspicion has been confirmed.

It's an ore. It's a lump of metal ore.

I feel a tingle up my arm- the hairs standing up in tandem, electricity running up my veins. I don't believe in destiny. I don't believe that each man has some allotted role to fill, a script somewhere governing every day of his life, every mile he walks traced before him from the moment he is born.

But if I _did_ believe in that, then it would be as good an explanation as any for this. I break my sword, and the very night I return home, a lump of metal ore falls from the sky.

Convenient.

Ping is standing next to me, staring at the rock. He doesn't seem as interested in its composition as I.

"I believe," I say, clearing my throat- we both kicked up a great deal of ash making our way to the meteor- "I know how you might pay me back. Allow me to buy this rock from you."

He cocks his head.

"You think you can make something of it?"

"You know, I just might."

–

Azula was not sure she liked flying. At least, not flying on the bison.

It was... dangerous. Oh, she was certain that the method of transport was safe enough, and it definitely had advantages over walking, but the fact remained that she was trapped in a very small area with four near-strangers with absolutely nowhere to hide and no way of retreating. Should they turn on her, there was no way she was going to make it out alive.

Not that they had given any indication that they were about to turn on her. But then, if she were about to attack them, she would make sure she didn't give it away beforehand.

Still, she supposed, at least she wasn't the earthbender, cut off from her element and completely helpless. A small mercy, but at least she could fight back if she were attacked.

And then there was the other problem. She had no control over the direction. If they had been walking, she could have, hypothetically, walked away at any time. Not so up here, surrounded by clouds. She was entirely at the mercy of the Avatar and his band.

The situation was less than ideal. And the saddle was uncomfortable and she was getting hungry.

–

The smelting took the rest of the day.

It took six men the better part of two hours to move the meteorite from the field to my forge, and from there it took nearly three hours to extract the ore from the rock. Eventually, there was enough for one longsword. Actually slightly too much, for which I was thankful- I do not know what I would have thought, had the ore been exactly sufficient for my needs.

Then there was the matter of actually smelting the ore. Fat manned the bellows, and I kept the forge fed with coal. We worked for hours, the fire glowing hotter than I had ever seen it before, so hot that I almost expected the stone of the forge to melt and crack from the sheer heat of it, and finally, _finally_ , the ore melted, and I could cast an iron bar.

The tongs were searing, even through the thick gloves, and I felt my eyeballs shrivel from the heat as I removed the metal from the fire, and poured it, thick and viscous, into the sand cast.

What kind of blade was I making?

–

Night had fallen, and they were still flying. It made sense to keep going, as long as the bison could stand it, but Azula would have preferred that they land. For one thing, with the setting of the sun, it had become unpleasantly cold. For another, it was exceptionally dull. None of the Avatar's party were what she would call fascinating conversationalists, and so all she had found to amuse herself was pondering small problems.

It was one such intellectual exercise that occupied her attention now. Everyone bar the boy had gone to sleep, and he was paying her no attention, sitting at the front, keeping hold of the reins. She was supposed to be getting some sleep, but of course she couldn't. Instead, she was trying to figure out the answer to a problem that had niggled at her since she had first realised what was wrong.

Azula peered over the lip of the saddle with a sceptical frown. It just didn't make any-

"Don't."

She looked up, sharply. The boy was the one who had spoken, twisted around to face her from his seat at the reins. "Don't try to figure it out, I mean. How Appa stays up."

Azula blinked, slowly. How had he-

"Everyone gets that look when they try to work it out. Trust me, it's not worth the effort to try. You'll just get a headache."

"But surely-"

"Nope. Don't try. It's not worth it," he repeated, emphatically. "He doesn't have any kind of propulsion I can figure out, there's not even the tiniest explosion involved- all I ever managed to get straight out of Aang was that he manipulated air currents somehow but I have no idea how that's supposed to help when he weighs at least two tonnes, he's not _jumping_ , he's not _gliding_ , all he does is wave his tail about every now again and bam! Sustained flying! It'll hurt your head, and you won't figure it out, so don't try."

Azula coughed, after a while. "Well," she said, in what she hoped was a placating tone, "you've clearly put some thought into it."

"Yeah," he said, apparently the picture of calmness again. "Well, what else is there to do up here?" Abruptly, he yawned enormously, interrupting any answer Azula might have cared to give to his rhetorical question, and turned back to the horizon.

Azula shook her head, and drew her cloak around her, against the growing chill of the night.

Every few minutes, she shuffled, shifting her weight, trying in vain to find a comfortable spot on the wood of the saddle. It was that or prop herself up against the waterbender's sleeping back, and although Azula had endured a truly nightmarish amount of indignities in the past weeks, she was in no hurry to add to their number.

"Can't sleep, huh?" the boy asked, and Azula's head jerked up.

Well. There was no use denying it. "No," she said, defying the boy to make a point of it.

"Awesome," he replied, surprising Azula somewhat. "Wanna take over?" he suggested, gesturing to the reins of the flying bison.

"What? I have no experience piloting bison." She couldn't be sure, in the gloom, but he might have shrugged.

"So? Gotta start some time. Come on, it's more comfortable than the saddle, and if you're not gonna sleep then I don't see why I have to be up."

She couldn't argue with that logic, and started to shift. He extended a hand to guide her towards him, and she took it. There was such a thing as pride, and there was such a thing as not falling hundreds of feet to her death. Eventually, she was sitting in the warm, comfortable nape of the bison's neck, and the boy was handing her the reins.

"It's dead easy. Ever driven a cart?"

"No."

"Huh. Well, that's fine, I guess. Appa knows what to do, all you gotta do is sit here and hold these." He thrust the reins into her hands, and started to make his way back into the saddle.

"Wait- that's all?"

He shrugged. "Pretty much. Like I said, Appa knows where he's going. Sure, there's more to it when we're not flying straight, but Aang'll be up by the time we're landing. Just, I dunno, make sure we don't hit anything or something."

Azula blinked. "I... see."

The boy stared back.

"That was a joke, by the way. We're in the air. So how could we ever hit anything."

"Oh. Oh I see."

"Feel free to laugh now."

Azula ignored him.

"Fine, whatever. Look, if you start getting tired, wake Aang or someone and turn in. G'night."

"Good night."

–

The forging took all night.

It had been years since I had made a sword, but it was a process I could never forget. Folding the steel, hammering out the blade, until my arm screamed and my shoulder ached, never letting the strikes vary, always controlled, always steady, no matter how much it hurts. There was a satisfaction to be found in it. Then, finally, as the dawn began to break, applying the strips of clay to the spine of the blade- to prevent brittleness- and quenching the weapon in a salt bath.

The blade I withdrew from the solution, brine sloughing from it, was jet black.

–

I am not opposed to decoration on swords, as long as they do not interfere with the weight, balance, or strength of the blade. A little pride in ones craftsmanship is perfectly natural. But I choose an understated hilt for this weapon. The blade seems too sombre to suffer any gaudiness.

The sun has risen, and I am about to test the blade with a simple kata. I used all the ore, in the end, and so the blade is slightly longer than I might be used to. It is certainly heavier in my hand.

I close my eyes, and inhale. And I bring the blade around, in a simple strike.

It does not sing through the air. It doesn't catch the sunlight. It doesn't sparkle. There is a heavy _whum_ as it carves an arc through the air.

It is heavy. I shall have to get used to that.

I reverse my grip, and swing the sword back the way it came. Another low _whum._ A curved sliver of midnight briefly flicks before my eyes.

Right. Let's pick up the pace.

I swing again, this time letting momentum do the work, allowing the blade to curl almost all the way behind me before altering my grip and completing the swing in a circle, the sword briefly swinging around my head like a black halo. I close my eyes as I speed up, the blade whirling and whipping around me, at times dragging me with it before I learn to accommodate the increased weight, but I'm getting the hang of it now, and I can afford to pick up the pace a little, and now I really begin to move, crouching and leaping and I think I'm starting to get a feel for this blade when my foot snags on an unexpected crack and I almost trip.

That should not have happened. The training ground is a flat surface. I _checked_.

Crouching, I take a look at what my shoe caught on.

It's a groove, deep enough that shadows obscure any indication as to its depth. It looks... like a fresh cut.

I glance at the blade.

No. Surely not. There must be another explanation.

Experimentally, I run my finger along the edge of the cut on the stone. It's sharp enough to draw blood.

No. No.

I have to test.

–

I heft the blade in two hands. Fat, some distance behind me, is serving as my witness. We are going to be scientific about this.

"Ready, Master? In three, two, one-"

I swing. The blade shears through three bamboo stalks without even slowing. Fat counts under his breath.

"'-three elephant-seal, four elephant-seal, five elephant-seal-"

It takes seven seconds for the bamboo to start to fall.

"Hmm. I believe we shall have to test some more."

–

"Observe. We have one (1) silk handkerchief; one (1) swordsman- that would be you, Master, and one (1) sword. If you would, Master."

I held the sword out flat, blade edge vertical.

"Thank you. Right. Then here we go." And he dropped the handkerchief, letting it fall down onto the blade.

Two halves of a handkerchief dropped onto the floor.

"Well," Fat said. "How nice. Perhaps, though, Master, you could devise a test that doesn't destroy any more good silk. It does cost money, you know."

–

Here we are. The third and final test. If the blade doesn't perform as I expect, then it will be damaged, possibly quite badly. At this point, I would almost be relieved. This sword is starting to unnerve me.

I take a deep breath, ready the blade, and lunge.

It sinks into the block of stone with hardly any resistance. Right up to the hilt.

The block of stone cracks, and splits in two.

Just what have I created?

–

I have heard all the tales, you know. All the stories that feature blades of myth. These swords always sing in your hand, the sunlight refracting in rainbows off them, lighter than air.

This sword is silent. Light barely glints along its surface, like it can hardly escape it. It is heavy. Heavier than a normal blade, even accounting for the length.

Swords of myth move almost on their own, turning the battlefield into a dance. Some are said to speak.

This blade does not speak. It ... _lurks_ , like a crocodile on the riverbed. Languid and lazy. I... find myself reluctant to disturb it.

After all, if I can sink this blade up to the hilt in a block of solid stone... what will happen when I send it against men?

–

Azula blinked. Someone was shaking her awake. This was not a wise course of action.

Blearily, she opened her eyes.

"Azula, wake up! Come on, we're here!"

The Avatar. Damnit. The one person she was a hundred percent certain she didn't want to get into a physical confrontation with was the one waking her up after two hours of fitful sleep. That was just unfair.

"Here?" she asked, blearily, and peered over the side. The sun was out, and there did indeed appear to be geography to speak of, instead of just clouds. A huge spire of rock, jutting out into the sky, wreathed by clouds. It was probably spectacular, but Azula wasn't awake enough to care.

Actually, now her eyes opened, she could see that it wasn't just a mountain. Carved into the rock, she could make out windows, and high, vaulted pillars. Paved walkways and snow-capped towers, even this late in the year.

And... pipes, now they were getting closer. And what looked like steam vents. And as they got closer still, and banked into a landing site-

People. Lots of people. Walking on high pathways above them, peering out from windows, stepping out from under the shadows of archways, hundreds of people, all staring transfixed at the bison and its passengers as they swooped down to land on an open space presumably built for just that purpose.

The Avatar did not look pleased. Azula wondered why.

A crowd had begun to gather within seconds of the bison touching down. Earth Kingdom, Azula noted, without surprise, but it was interesting to see that many of them seemed quite finely dressed. For the Earth Kingdom, anyway. Velvet, mainly. She supposed the material was practical for the colder climates, but it just didn't have the same effect as silk.

A delegation was bustling towards them- two uniformed men that looked like guards, and a youngish looking bureaucrat in between. When he was twenty feet from the bison, he stopped, and bowed low.

"Avatar. As a representative of the King in Exile, it is my honour to welcome you to the Northern Air Temple."


	27. The Court of the Exile-King

_Or,_

_ Wicked Dreams Abuse the Curtained Sleep. _

–

Miraculous and slightly disconcerting properties of new blades aside, I still had work to do. According to my own personal plan, I would be staying at home just long enough for me to really feel homesick once I left again, and that meant I had time to get to grips with the paperwork.

The endless, endless reams of paperwork.

And for some reason I find the fact that it is a fine summer's morning the most galling thing about the whole process.

Perhaps... perhaps I should not have set my desk in front of a window.

But anyway. Back to work.

Hakoda sends his regards, along with the news that his joint venture with Pakku has gone well. I had heard rumours, delivered second hand by Fat, of barbarian warriors striking in the South then vanishing without a trace, but it was always nice to get official confirmation. After all, they might have been an entirely different group of barbarian warriors.

Surprisingly, Hakoda made mention of some prisoners actually being freed. I would have thought none would have survived this long- they must be truly ancient. By his terse description, they are wretched things, more than one clearly insane. He noted that more than one babbled continuously about demons, who snatched people's bodies and wore their skin.

I put the note aside. Nothing to be done about that one, just a status report. Although perhaps I should reply, and tell the Chief to cut down on the colour commentary in future.

No, too busy. Can't waste a messenger-hawk. Got to stay on task. Look at next report. What is the next report?

Says here... _Abnormally large order of canvas approved by War Council._

I flip the roll of paper over, just in case someone has written on the back. Nothing.

What? What? Why am I being told this? What _possible_ input do they expect me to have? 'Well, gentlemen, that certainly is odd, don't you think? Maybe if you were, I don't know, _trained spies_ , you could go and find out what the War Council wants with a huge roll of canvas! Oh if only you were capable of _thinking for yourselves_ , then maybe we'd get something done without a week-long lag while you wait for me to summon the strength to answer your inane missive'?

Right. That's it. I need a cup of tea. I'll get back to this in a minute.

–

Tea has a wonderfully soothing effect on a disharmonious mind. Not quite so soothing that I am willing to overlook the sudden- and uncharacteristic- ineptitude of our agents in the Capital, but still. I am a little calmer, at least.

Well. Back to work. If I am very lucky I shall be finished before the sun goes down.

–

No? Oh well. Ever onward.

–

Azula stared blankly at the room she had been given. It was small, and threadbare. A narrow bed, a small bedside table, and a chair. A mirror on the wall, and a thin rug on the stone floor. Still, it was better than the cave, or the saddle. Or the hammock, now she thought about it.

In fact this was the most comfortable accommodation she had had since father died.

She tried not to think about it. She tried not to think about anything. So, desperate for a distraction, she started listening to the person haranguing her from the other side of the door.

"Azula, come _on_. We're gonna be late. Don't tell me you're not hungry."

The Avatar was quickly starting to get on her nerves.

"I'm not hungry," she replied, bluntly. This was, of course, a complete lie, and transparently so. Still, she could only hope that the Avatar would just get frustrated and leave.

"Azula, what's _wrong_?"

Where to _begin_? Just walking from the landing area to this room had been bad enough (and was it suspicious that they had enough rooms for everyone?)- she was certain that she had been seen by at least fifty people.

This was not some village out in the wilderness. These people were _informed_ , and it would only be a matter of time before she was discovered. Mingling would definitely not help.

And she didn't know what would be worse- to be locked up or executed as an enemy, or to be forced into an alliance with the Earth Kingdom, and used as a bargaining chip.

She would _never_ be manipulated again. She was nobody's puppet, and nobody's vassal.

"Azula, it's a banquet being thrown in our honour. It'd look pretty bad if we didn't show up."

A banquet being held by the Earth King. The _enemy_.

She'd thought she was past this. She'd thought she was resigned to working with people she had been brought up to believe were against everything she had ever known. She'd been wrong. She still couldn't swallow her pride and go on bended knee before the King of the Earth Kingdom. Not now, and not ever.

"In _your_ honour, Avatar. I doubt they will be too offended if you say that I am too ill to leave my room."

"But-"

"Aang, come _on_ ," a sudden voice whined, cutting the Avatar off. "We've gotta go or we'll be late." The boy, and Azula realised with a muted shock that she hadn't heard his approach. She really _must_ be weak.

"Azula won't leave her room," the Avatar replied, radiating concern even through the door.

"Who _cares_ ," the boy replied. "If she wants to starve, let her starve. Come on, I'm hungry."

"But-"

"You can take her an orange or something if you're really worried afterwards, now come _on_ , I haven't had a meal that I haven't either cooked or washed up after in _months_ , and I'm gonna enjoy it." His sentence trailed off, as two sets of footsteps trailed away down the hallway.

Azula was very nearly grateful, until she remembered not to care.

–

Three hours later she was interrupted from her rigourous staring at the wall by a knock on the door. Opening it, cautiously, she was confronted with a blank expression and a plate of food.

Cold pig-chicken. Vegetables. Cold hippo-beef. Fruit. Cold mutton-pig. What looked like a pastry creation of unknown and slightly suspect provenance. Cold turtle-duck. The plate had been prepared by someone with a healthy respect for protein, obviously. She took it without a word, and set it on the small table.

The boy was still there, observing her coolly. Azula raised an eyebrow, silently demanding an explanation. Instead, he took a full step forward, into the room, and kicked the door shut behind him.

Azula was instantly on edge. She _might_ be able to overpower him, in her current state. She had never seen him fight, but he was young, barely older than her, and as long as he wasn't armed there was a good chance that-

Her eyes flicked, and she saw the machete resting casually at his hip.

Oh no. Her fingers twitched, screaming with the urge to just blast him with flame and be safe, cover be damned, her heart thudded deafeningly in her chest, blood roared in her ears, and some tiny unchangeable core of her marvelled at how _afraid_ she was of this so mundane a threat-

"What," she said, her voice giving away no indication of the maelstrom beneath it, "do you want? Exactly?"

He held her gaze for two agonising seconds, two seconds of trying to find something in his expression to justify killing him here and now, two seconds of failing, and then he spoke.

"Are we gonna have problems?"

Azula blinked. That was not expected. Or explicable.

"Excuse me?"

"Whatever big super important secret it is you're freaking out about. Don't look at me like that. Look, I _know_ you've got some kind of insane issues, you're on _Team Avatar_. Dramatic issues are what we're all about. You're keeping some kinda secrets from us, that's fine. But tell me now. Is it something that's gonna put Aang in danger?"

Azula was coming to the conclusion that she might have misread the boy's motives somewhat. Her breathing began to even out. Her fists uncurled. And she put some thought into her response.

Harm? To the Avatar? Did her position as Crown Princess put the Avatar in danger? Well, of course it did. It put her and everyone she associated with in danger from the agents of the Fire Lord, and once Iroh was dead, well.

But once Iroh was dead, Iroh would be dead. Azula did not bother to calculate beyond that.

"Well? Come on, it's a pretty simple question."

Azula responded, carefully. An outright lie was always less preferable than a warped kind of truth, so she chose her words with care. "...There might be a large number of violent people chasing after us, should word get out."

Sokka defied all expectations, and _laughed_.

"Oh man," he said, breathlessly, "is that it? That's not _danger_ , that's _Tuesday_. There's nothing better than that?"

"Sorry," she replied, blandly.

"Okay, that's fine." Azula's face must have betrayed her surprise, because he elaborated. "Look, personal crap is personal crap, okay? You don't have to share unless you really want to, and personally I'd be grateful if you didn't unless it was something really interesting. If it's not a threat to Aang, then it's really not an issue."

Azula shrugged. She didn't really think there was anything to say.

"Oh, and before I forget, you're officially a girl named Lily and you're best friends with Toph. You can't bend, but you've got a talent for kicking guys in the face, and you insisted on coming with us because you were worried that your childhood friend would get in trouble without you. Also you owed money all over town. Hey, don't give me that look, I was put on the spot, this is the best I could come up with. That guy, the one who met us when we arrived?"

Azula's nose wrinkled at the memory. She had not liked him.

"Yeah, that one. He was asking after you, and Aang basically left me to deal with him." He sounded put-upon, but Azula was getting the feeling that he was playing it up, since he had an audience.

"I... see," Azula said. It was possibly just the man making polite conversation, but Azula was not the sort to give the benefit of the doubt.

"Yeah. Well, that's about it. Enjoy your meal, I guess. 'Bye," he said, and was gone in a flurry of limbs.

Azula shook her head, and sat down to eat.

–

It was hours later, and Azula was lying in bed, staring at the blackness.

It was not the nightmares. Those, she at least could bear- could believe that they were random, and beyond her control. No, what she feared in the night, what kept her from sleep, was herself.

In the featureless black, with nothing to distract her, nothing to see, nothing to think about, nobody to talk to , there was no barrier, no shield between herself and the crushing, overwhelming _guilt_.

 _She could have saved them_. That was the thought, the one thought that seared through her mind, leaving white-hot trails of regret in its wake. She lay in bed, mind obsessively turning over all the myriad ways she had failed them, fixated on every detail of her betrayal of their trust, and the more she tried not to, the more the back of her mind screamed at her, echoing over and over Father's last instructions to her as the lightning flashed across her mind's eye again.

It felt like hours, lying in the featureless blackness, eyes wide and staring into oblivion, before she could stand it no more.

Her throat was dry. That was as good an excuse as any to leave the void, and return to something like reality.

She would get a glass of water, and with luck, the excursion would tire her out enough to slip past her subconscious self-flagellation, and steal a few hours of repose.


	28. Resource Management

_or,_

_ I Know the Roads Down Which your Life Will Drive; I Find the Key that lets you Slip Inside. _

–

It was really quite simple, Azula found. At least when you remembered a few pertinent details, and had a decent eye for observation.

The Air Temples had been communal living areas. Therefore any kitchen facilities would be similarly communal, large, and near the main dining halls. Which, since she had declined to attend the banquet, she had no hope of locating. So that was out.

However, she was reasonably certain that she had seen a well in the courtyard they had arrived at. That seemed an achievable goal, and she _did_ need a drink of water. Her throat itched terribly.

This was a good thing to be focusing on. It was good to think about material problems that had easily-achieved solutions.

–

It took a while, but eventually, Azula found herself in the small courtyard that housed the fountain. It was dark- the moon was somewhere behind her, obscured by the towering architecture of the Temple, so the only source of light was the distant pinpricks of starlight, and dull candle-light streaming from scattered windows, set high in the walls that crowded around the courtyard.

This was why it took nearly seven seconds for her to notice that someone else was already at the fountain.

"Is- is someone there? Oh, Spirits- look, I just wanted a drink of water, that's all. There's no need to make a fuss over it." A man's voice, but young- mid twenties, if Azula were about to guess. _Very_ well educated, if his accent were any indication. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, more details presented themselves- robes, the outline of a sword at his side, and two small glints of fire at head height indicated eyeglasses.

"Look, just... don't tell anybody I'm here, please? It would only worry people unduly, and everyone has enough to worry about right now."

Azula stared blankly as the absurdity of the situation dawned on her. Here she was, essentially an undercover member of the Fire Nation skulking around the secret base of the Earth King at two in the morning, and the man by the fountain was asking _her_ not to tell anyone he was here.

She got the distinct feeling she was missing an important piece of the puzzle.

The figure was standing, now, and took a small step towards her.

"...Hang on," he said, a little less formally. "I... don't believe we've met."

Azula thought for a moment, taking time to recall the cover story Sokka had hastily fabricated for her.

"...Lily," she said, trying to conceal the contempt she felt for the name. "I arrived with the Avatar this morning."

"Oh, of course. They said you were ill. Did you- oh, I'm sorry. Did you come for a drink of water?"

Azula shrugged. "That was my intention, yes." In response, the man picked up something from the gloom, and turned back to the fountain. Azula heard a gentle splash of water, and he turned back to face her.

"I suppose you can't sleep either?" he asked, handing her an earthenware cup, full of water.

Azula saw no sense in denying it.

"Apparently not," she admitted, gingerly sipping the water. She wondered, vaguely, how she was going to deflect this conversation away from her, but she needn't have worried. The man seemed eager enough to fill the silence all by himself.

"It's nerves, I'm ashamed to say. This whole ... _war_ is coming to a head soon, and I'm rather afraid that I'm caught up in it. We're mobilising, you see. Quite soon, actually.

"Frankly, I'd rather just let everyone else get on with it. I know that must sound dreadfully selfish, but I really am no good at the whole _fighting_ business."

Azula blinked, nodding almost imperceptibly at the sword tucked into his sash.

"Oh, this?" he asked, tapping the hilt. "You mustn't suppose that merely carrying a blade presupposes martial prowess of any sort. It's just for the look of the thing, I'm afraid. The last time I actually drew the blasted thing I nearly cut my own ear off with it."

Azula cocked her head, slightly curious. "You honestly have no experience of battle?"

The man grimaced. "...I have certainly never _fought._ I was in a battle, after a fashion. Years ago, now. I don't remember a great deal. Fire. Smoke. A lot of rushing about, and yelling. I tripped over and broke my eyeglasses at some point. I didn't acquit myself particularly well, I'm afraid. I got captured, you see, even after everything I got _captured_ , and a lot of people went to frankly enormous effort to get me out in one piece."

Azula blinked. "Was it worth it?" Who was this man, then, that held such tactical importance to the Earth Kingdom?

"They apparently thought so. And now we are going back home. I'm told I shouldn't expect much- the entire Lower Ring was … _purged_ , you see. Terrible, terrible business. Used to be the largest city in the entire world, I'm sure you know. Now... a few hundred thousand souls. Plus the Fire Nation garrison, of course." He looked up, at Azula's carefully composed face. "Sorry. That was supposed to be a little jingoism. I'm told it helps."

"Did it?"

"Don't be ridiculous." He sighed. "Still, one has to put a brave face. Moping doesn't help anybody, least of all me. And look on the bright side- at least I'm going home again."

"You sound very certain of victory. Didn't you mention a garrison?"

He gave her a level look. "Do you _really_ think you could keep an earthbender out of any city he really wanted to enter? Besides, we've got an advantage, because- oh, I'm sorry. I'm not supposed to talk about that. Secret weapon, official secrets, very hush-hush."

Azula would later consider herself the very pinnacle of restraint for not leaping across the courtyard and beating answers out of the man's head the instant he said those words. And in the same moment she would reprimand herself for missing an opportunity, because in that instant, he shook his head, and stood up, abruptly smiling slightly.

"You know," he said, cheerfully, "if you're having trouble sleeping, the worst thing you can do is dwell on something you can't resolve then and there. Try telling yourself a story- one you know off by heart. That often helps me."

Azula shook her head. "I thank you for your suggestion," she replied, curtly, "but I don't know many stories. Thank you for the water." And with that, she turned back, followed by the nagging dread that it was only going to get harder to sleep.

–

"Master. It is time to get up."

Blearily, I open my eyes. What time is it? Where am I? Is it somewhere where I won't be begrudged a few more hours' sleep?

"I apologise, Master, but you gave very specific instructions." I'm still trying to work out how I'm supposed to work this fleshy thing that's stuck to the roof of my mouth - _tongue_ , that's what it's called- and so I can't interrupt for the moment. "You said if any particularly important messages arrived for you, you were to be woken up, no matter how tired you were."

Damn. I _hate_ Past Me. He keeps leaving things for me to trip up on.

I sigh, and sit up, taking the cup of tea Fat offers.

Tea is miraculous stuff. Backbone of modern society. No wait the backbone of modern society is going out and killing people from foreign lands. Tea _should_ be the backbone of modern society, though.

"Alright," I say, long-sufferingly. "Show me the letters."

He does.

–

The Avatar arrived at the Northern Air Temple yesterday morning (the letter read, so factor in travel time of at least two days). Well, that's not too surprising. We've had several contingency plans in place for just such an occurrence. Accompanying the Avatar were the two Water Tribes teenagers (good to see they're still alive), an earthbender June had mentioned before in her infrequent reports, now identified as Toph Bei Fong (of the Gaoling Bei Fongs- the Avatar moves in august company, it would seem), and a fourth companion. A firebender.

Princess Azula. Presumed deceased some weeks ago.

It's unbelievable. It's so unbelievable that I don't believe it. The odds of the Princess just _finding_ herself in the Avatar's company are... it's very unlikely, I know that. And yet, there is corroboration. June's reports on the Avatar's movements are indeed consistent with this eventuality. They were in the area where the Princess and her family were ambushed, and then rapidly retreated to a secluded cave on the coast for some time, before moving north to the Air Temple.

So maybe I can believe this actually happened. Which means that someone, somewhere, is having a laugh. Probably at my expense.

What do I _do_? Do I do anything?

I'm almost tempted to ignore it. After all, it is unlikely in the extreme that the Princess will be willing to listen to us now- there's no chance we can gain her trust, not after everything, even if our intentions _were_ completely altruistic. Which they aren't, at least as far as the Princess is concerned. It would not do to provoke her.

And there is the fact that every time I have interfered with her life directly, one of her family has died. Twice may be a coincidence, but I will have to be forgiven for not wanting to find out if it's a pattern.

I simply don't know what to do.

After a moment I recall that I received two letters. Setting aside the first, I examine the second.

And suddenly, the way forward is clear.

–

It's only after my orders are given, and the messenger hawk is flying, that I begin to wonder if I made the right decision.

I am trying, in my continual quest for self-improvement, to stop second-guessing myself, if only because once I start I never stop, but the directive I just gave may well backfire. Horribly, and quite possibly fatally, for everyone involved.

Well, if that's the case, at least it won't involve us any more. How the Princess chooses to proceed is completely out of my hands. I am not building a facet of the Plan on how the Princess reacts to this- I am simply giving her an opportunity to act as she sees fit. I like to think it's something of a peace offering.

After all, I completely cocked up in this area, so it's only fair to let her try her hand. Perhaps she will do better.

–

Azula stalked the halls, quietly seething.

It was all too much. Too many people- too many potential enemies, too many people who might recognise her, too much noise, too little privacy, and, above everything, no way to strike back. No enemy to engage, no plan to formulate, all she could do was pace up and down the halls like a caged tiger.

It was this bottled resentment that simply burst when she saw, coming around a corner, two soberly-dressed men pass each other in the hall. She would have thought little of it, except for one detail. A small slip of paper passed surreptitiously from one man to the other, as they passed.

There wasn't a plan going through her head when she stole the paper from the man's pocket- all she was really trying to do was strike an unimaginably tiny blow against secret bloody societies and their skulking about with secret bloody messages. Father had gotten involved in secret plots, and he had died for it. Azula had trusted Zuko's life to agents of the same secret plotters, and he had died for it. It was simply a release, a natural result of too much frustrated rage bottled up for too long.

But then, when she actually _read_ the note, almost as an afterthought, it was like waking after a long sleep. The pounding frustration in her head dropped away, replaced by icy water.

She turned back, towards the Avatar's quarters, and started to run.

–

She practically skidded to a halt outside the Avatar's room, and paused to catch her breath. And listen at the door, of course.

"...Sokka, I really don't like this."

"I know, okay. But look, you don't have to commit to anything, just, you know, hear them out. Look, I know it's kinda weird going to the Earth King for help-"

"It's _wrong_ , Sokka. It's not my job to be some kind of... military leader."

"-I _know_. But Aang, there's _four_ of us-"

"Five."

"I said that. Look, it may not be following the Avatar Code, but doing things the 'right way' leaves _five_ of us against _an entire country_. I know it's iffy, but something's gotta give, Aang, and I'd rather my karma points take the hit than my soft yielding flesh."

This sounded very bad indeed. Fortunately, the Avatar didn't sound convinced, but if Sokka were her opponent in this debate, things could turn sour very quickly.

She decided. Act now, go in there, and deliver her news. Hopefully the Avatar would welcome the distraction, and it might put Sokka off-balance long enough for a decision to be reached without his input.

Nerves steeled, Azula opened the door. The two boys in the room swung round as she entered, both faces displaying the same look of surprise.

"Avatar," she said, grabbing the initiative, trying to keep her voice level. "I fear I must ask a favour of you. You recall I told you about my family?" He nodded, and she took a steadying breath. "I just received information. My mother is alive, and a prisoner of the Fire Lord. She is being held captive on Ember Island."


	29. Priorities

–

_ The Story of a Woman on the Morning of a War; Remind Me if You Will Exactly What We're Fighting For. _

–

Azula's declaration was met with a moment of silent shock, and then the Avatar moved, fairly vaulting over to the other side of his room, where a large and elaborate map of the world sat on a low table.

"Ember Island, Ember Island... aha! Here it is!" He pointed with small triumph to the southern tail of the Fire Nation, where the island did indeed rest. "Okay, let's see. We can be there in... about a week." He looked a little shamefaced at this. "Sorry, it'd be faster, but we can't go over the mainland if we wanna get there without being spotted."

A week. She would see Mother again in a _week_. Her utter shock at the complete lack of opposition was completely subsumed by this one simple fact.

"A week is... acceptable. Thank you, Avatar."

Sokka made a kind of strangulated noise. He didn't sound happy. "But-" he glanced from the Avatar to Azula to the Avatar to Azula again, eyes wide and staring, eyebrows raised, and here, here was the opposition she had been expecting. Azula, for her part, stared passively back. After a moment, he seemed to deflate. "Alright," he sighed, with an exasperated shrug.  "Guess I'll go tell the Council of Five we won't be staying after all. Someone go tell Toph and Katara, and we'll meet at Appa in a couple of hours."

Or perhaps not, then.

With that, he turned and walked out the door. After a few moments, Azula thought she could make out the retreating sound of him muttering darkly to himself, although she couldn't make out any specific words.

Azula was more than a little surprised at how quickly he had acquiesced, but decided not to comment on it. After all, it was nice to have something finally going her way.

–

Azula elected to wait in the Avatar's quarters, while the others made the necessary preparations. It was a larger and more comfortable room than her own, and she was not sure she could compose herself enough for a walk through the hallways just at that moment.

So, to pass the time, and ensure she remained diverted enough not to act ...overemotionally, she examined the room in some detail, watching for the marks the Avatar had placed over his living quarters.

Azula had seen her own room as nothing but a box- a space she went to lie down and try to sleep in, nothing more. Not the Avatar. Even in a short space of time, the Avatar had made the room unmistakably his own. The floor to the ceiling bore small but unmistakable traces of his residence- the floor scuffed and uneven from small-scale but near-constant earthbending, a sign that he was still working on mastering the element; the furniture, all but untouched save for the opulent bed and a large, soft pillow (the Avatar was such a _child_ still) the windows wide open (wider, in fact, than they had been designed to go- in one instance, earthbending had simply removed the entire windowpane from the wall, and propped it neatly beside the door), allowing the wind to go where it would- these were all obvious signs of his occupation.

Less predictable, though, was the reaction to the piping that threaded through one wall. Some of the same piping protruded from one wall of her room, and to her interest she had found it to be for the purpose of moving heated water from one part of the temple to another. Whether intended or not, the pipe had the pleasing side-effect of heating Azula's room nicely. A few careful questions to the right people had revealed that these pipes were part of extensive modifications to the Temple that had been performed by a community that had lived here before the Court in Exile- some time after the airbenders, of course. Apparently they had been wiped out by Fire Nation soldiers some years before, although Azula had heard nothing of such an event. But in any event, the infrastructure had outlasted the colony, and when the Court had taken the Temple from the Fire Nation, they found it simple enough to understand how the majority of the devices worked, and maintain them.

In the Avatar's room, three pipes were threaded through one wall, horizontally. He had stacked furniture in front of them, and when that had proved insufficient, draped blankets over them, masking them from view.

What strange behaviour.

Her thoughts were interrupted abruptly, when a large man violently kicked the door open.

–

It was a fine morning, again, and I was in an equally fine mood.

I had rested. I had been fed. I had bathed. I had had a haircut. I had finally got on top of the bloody paperwork. And, once again, it was a nice day. And I was determined to enjoy it. Very soon, I will have no time to enjoy sunny days, so I'll be damned if I let this one get away from me.

So I was walking down to the village. Not _entirely_ without purpose- that would be self-indulgent- but perhaps the trip was less critical than it might have been. But then again, all my messages have been sent, and it will be a day until the next batch arrive on my desk.

The last batch, actually. After tomorrow, there's no turning back.

Anyway. I was going to pick up groceries. Fat was taking his turn keeping watch.

My new sword is a little too long, and a little too heavy to wear comfortably on my hip, so it is sheathed diagonally, across my back. I'm still getting used to wearing it.

–

Azula stepped back, reflexively hunching over just slightly- shrinking her silhouette and appearing non-confrontational- as the man barged into the middle of the room.

It was the correct decision. He wasn't here for her, the way his eyes flickered around the room was proof enough of that, and by appearing small and unimportant she gained a few vital seconds more to assess the man for herself.

He was large- not overweight, but built to a slightly greater scale than most. There were taller men than him, especially among the Water Tribes, but he had broad shoulders that those barbarians typically lacked. His beard was long, but neat, and his clothes were fine but simply adorned.

So. That could mean almost anything.

But his body language was eloquent- every fibre of him fairly vibrated with frustration, panic, and _anger_.

This meant trouble.

After a few seconds in which he seemed to double check that he and Azula were alone in the room, he spoke, spitting the words at Azula like they burned him.

"Well? Where is he, girl?"

Azula blinked. There was really only one _he_ the man could be referring to, given the locale.

"The Avatar?- "

"No, the Fire Lord," the man snapped, interrupting her. "Of course I mean the Avatar, girl. Are you _simple_?"

Azula bit down her first response. And her second. And third.

Eventually, she reached a response that didn't leave the man as nothing but a greasy smear on the opposite wall.

"The Avatar, I believe, is elsewhere. He is busy."

"Busy? Then he is, at least, still _here_? Well, that is something, then."

Azula watched as the man suddenly froze, a thought spreading across his face.

"One moment. What is your name?"

Azula could see where this was going. "Lily."

"Hmm. Yes, that was it," the man said, staring at her impassively. Azula stared back. There wasn't much else she could do, at this juncture.

Her only solace was the thought that it was unlikely that the man would actually attack her.

Unless he realised that she was about as far from an Earth Kingdom peasant as anyone was likely to get, of course. Still, gold eyes, while rare, weren't actually unheard of in the Earth Kingdom. She just had to rely on the man giving her the benefit of the doubt on that front.

Worryingly, the man had taken on an almost scheming look, and stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"Yes. You're one of the Avatar's followers, aren't you. Well, it's hardly ideal, but desperate times."

Azula was about to throw caution to the wind and simply _ask_ what exactly the man intended, which at least would have been novel, when she heard running in the corridor outside, which abruptly skidded to a halt outside, and were replaced with the sound of someone trying desperately to catch their breath.

And then Sokka burst into the room.

"Alright, A- oh, General, didn't expect to see you here."

Azula learned three things from that sentence. Firstly, that the man was a general, secondly, that he was known to Sokka, and thirdly, that Sokka was lying through his teeth.

This should be interesting.

"I don't know if you've met? Lily, this is General How, leader of the Council of Five, General How, this is Lily, the, uh, girl from Gaoling. Not Toph, the other one."

"A pleasure," Azula sneered. She couldn't have stopped herself for all the money in the world.

"From Gaoling?" the General asked, with mock surprise. "I never would have guessed, from your accent." _He knows_ , Azula thought. _Or at least, he suspects_. This could get very ugly.

Sokka waved his hands dismissively. "She hung out with the Bei Fongs for who knows how many years. She's just trying to sound upper-class. Anyway, it's a pleasure as always, but I gotta say I'd have thought you'd be too busy to drop by and pay us a visit."

"Well, I thought it would be worth my time to stop by, since you interrupted out meeting to tell us that the Avatar was _leaving_. _Today_. I thought I had impressed upon you how important he would be to our plans."

Sokka sighed. "Look. I told you. Something's come up. We can't stay any more." Azula wasn't sure she liked the way he was very deliberately not looking at her.

"You can't just _leave_ -"

"Pretty sure that's exactly what we're doing."

The General looked like he was fighting an internal battle. When he next spoke, it was in a low, faraway voice, as though reading off an internal script.

"Are you certain there is nothing I can say to persuade you to stay? Even for just a few weeks more?"

Sokka glanced askance at Azula, looking confused. Azula shrugged slightly, in response.

"Yeah, pretty certain."

"...There is a weapon at our disposal. One which will be of _great_ interest to you, I promise."

"Look, unless it's something like a crossbow that shoots swords, I'm pretty sure we're good."

"On midsummer, the moon will pass in front of the sun."

Dead silence.

Azula blinked. Sokka's jaw swung gently in the breeze.

"For six minutes, the sun will be entirely blocked. For six minutes, there will be no firebending. We are launching our assault on that day. Imagine what we could do with the Avatar at our head."

Through the maelstrom that was Azula's mind, she noted with growing disquiet the terrible fires of temptation glowing in her companion's eyes.

"...One question," he said, at last. "How long have you known about this?"

"Years," How replied, looking smug.

"Uh huh. I'm assuming you've planned for this pretty extensively."

"Down to the last second."

"Thought so. Then in that case," Sokka replied, with the tone of a man laying down a winning hand "you don't need Aang. We can trust you guys not to screw up, but we've got our own stuff to deal with."

Azula had to stop herself smirking too broadly. Gloating would not be the best response at the moment.

How glanced at Azula for the briefest of moments, then frowned, and nodded.

"Very well. It seems I cannot persuade you." He paused, and turned to go. "Safe travels."

The man ducked, and closed the door behind him.

At the exact moment that How's footsteps were no longer audible, Sokka deflated like a balloon.

Azula raised an eyebrow.

"As much as I appreciate the assistance, I could have dealt with him," she said.

"Yeah, but the last thing we need is to horribly murder the leader of the Council of Five on our way out. So you'll have to forgive me making sure nobody died."

Azula was about to retort with something childish- she couldn't help it, the adrenaline was getting to her head- when she heard footsteps in the corridor outside.

Sokka evidently heard them too, from the way he unsheathed his machete and whirled to face the door.

"Okay," he said, with forced tranquility, "I didn't want to worry you, but as you might have guessed the news that we're leaving didn't exactly go down well with the Council of Five. And not all of them have How's self-control."

Azula thought that sounded bad, and said so. "You think someone is going to try something... stupid."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm thinking. Aang's gonna be safe, but I wouldn't bet nobody's thought of grabbing one of us and using us as a hostage. Like you said, stupid."

Azula nodded, following his train of thought. "But we shouldn't assume that they're in the mood to be smart."

"Exactly. So here's what we're gonna do. Are you packed?"

"Since everything I own fits into one small rucksack, yes."

"Awesome. We're gonna go to your room, pick up your stuff, then we're gonna head straight for Appa and we're gonna wait there for the others. How're you feeling? Up for running?"

Azula wasn't sure she liked what that question implied. "I don't know the corridors well."

"Okay, so we'll play it cool. I can do that."

Azula decided that, on the whole, she didn't like the Northern Air Temple very much.

–

"...He _threatened_ you?" The Avatar was incredulous.

"Not directly," Azula replied, glancing around at the high walls of the temple. Even though she couldn't see them, she knew people were watching them. Their invisibility was simply proof that they were there. "But it was obvious enough that he wanted to stop us leaving."

Sokka nodded, from the saddle, where he had been helping to load their possessions. "Yeah. So if we're gonna go, we'd better go _now_ and oh crap Toph can you feel something?"

The earthbender nodded, and Azula noted that she seemed a little more rattled than usual as she responded. "Oh yeah, at least twelve guys, running for the courtyard door."

The Avatar made a snap decision. "Everyone onto Appa, quick!"

Azula had never agreed with the boy more.

In the end they were barely quick enough. They had just taken off when a group of black-clad earthbenders spilled into the courtyard. One had shouted 'wait!' and Sokka had riposted with the only real response, which was "Sorry, can't hear you! See you guys around!" and they were _safe_.

Nobody relaxed until the Northern Air Temple disappeared from view, swallowed by the clouds.

–

I'm feeling quite relaxed, actually. The sun is nice, the market is full of things to see and smell and hear, and for the first time in as long as I can remember it, it seems the little town is bustling.

Which is why it takes me three whole seconds to notice the giant bald man in the crowd, giving him ample time to try to murder me.


	30. Complacency

_Or,_

_ Throw me to the Wolves Because there's Order in the Pack; Throw me to the Sky Because I Know I'm Coming Back. _

–

There's a word for situations like this. It's on the tip of my tongue, but every time I try to think what it is the thought shies away, like I can only remember this damn word from the corner of my mind's eye.

Oh what _is_ it? I remember Pakku using it once. Or was it June?

Argh, that's going to bother me.

–

Years of practice and experience in the arts of combat, as well as the rather more subtle art of not dying, have left me an acute ability to sense approaching danger. There's nothing magical about it, of course, just observation. The subtle changes in the flow of sound that indicates behind me, a lot of people are moving out of the way of something coming down the road. The indistinct sound of one metal boot hitting the ground at slow, regular intervals. I know only one person with that kind of footwear.

Plus the way someone in the crowd yells _"Look out, Master Piandao!"_ helps. Sometimes it's an easy answer.

Regardless, I have about two seconds before I'm reduced to a greasy smear on the breeze.

He's right behind me. Dramatic convention demands I turn around slowly and stare him down.

Don't turn around slowly. Don't turn around at all.

I run. And behind me, the pottery stand I had been perusing explodes into a million ceramic fragments.

–

This is no good. There's too many people, too much noise, too much confusion, and as much as this is acting as cover for me, it's also making it very difficult for me to close the gap between me and my enemy quickly, and of the two of us, I'm not the one that can vaporise an entire street with my mind.

So here I am, cowering behind a wall, sword in hand, while a walking explosion stomps around the town square, and the only thing I can think to do is wait for him to lose patience and start randomly blowing up buildings.

On the plus side, I remember the word now.

 _Clusterfuck_.

You know, it's days like these that make me want to retire and settle down in a nice little opium den in the country.

"Psst! Master Piandao!"

A finger taps my shoulder, trying to get my attention.

Excuse me, but I _might_ have a little on my plate right now. Come back later.

"What," I manage, an ear and a half still trained on the footfalls of my gargantuan opponent. He's getting closer.

"I've got a plan, Master Piandao!"

Finally, I flick my eyes toward the speaker. Young lad, wearing a guard's uniform. Carrying a spear. Town guard, probably appeared while I was away- I certainly don't recognise him.

After a second of silence, I nod at him, expecting something.

"Well?"

"Oh! Right! He's after you, isn't he? So what we could do, is you distract him, I'll cut down one of the back alleys and pop out behind him, stick him in the kidneys while he's doing whatever it is he does, and you chop his head off!"

It's a better idea than what I had, it's true.

I nod. No time to look a gift distraction in the mouth.

Oh damn. Hear that? Two faint _clicks_ , like someone snapping their fingers.

And then-

–

I have seen many things on many battlefields. I have seen Tribesmen lost in battle-frenzy, taking wounds that would send any sane man into shock without even slowing down. I have seen earthbenders create fortifications around a village literally seconds before the enemy crashed upon them. I have seen the most esoteric war machines of the Fire Nation, in their terrible majesty and their laughable obsolescence. Often within the same battle.

But I have never seen fire do the work of a battering ram before.

The wall is hardly even scorched- the ball of flame simply _pushed_ everything out of its way, and only my quick thinking and my ally's quick reactions saved us both from being buried under rubble.

Except now we're trapped in the open courtyard- deserted, of course- the explosions have scattered the crowd. The only available cover this far out is the well, and-

_Chk chk_

–

Suddenly there is no well. Everything about the well that separated it from a hole in the ground with water in it is _gone_.

This looks very bad.

My companion turns to charge, spear raised defiantly.

What the hell, at this stage why not?

He gets ten feet before I see the sparks fly from that strange third eye and the young idiot either didn't notice or doesn't understand the significance because he doesn't alter his course at all so the only thing I can do is grab him by the scruff of the neck and fling him bodily into an alleyway and it's okay because the explosion catapults me in the same direction anyway.

–

I scrabble upwards, pulled up onto my knees by desperate hands. The young man stares back. Either he's mouthing silently at me, or I just can't hear him over the ringing in my ears.

My tongue won't move, so I wave at him, jabbing two fingers up in a desperate attempt at improvised communication.

" -aht?"

I shake my head, and the movement dislodges my tongue and rattles open my jaw a fraction.

"-wo spa, the"

Nope. Complete sentences are out of the picture right now. Deploying sentence fragments.

I tap the centre of my forehead twice.

"Spark... spark... _boom_!" I explain, badly.

He nods. Either he gets it, or he thinks I'm insane. Not a lot I can do about the latter right now. Besides, he could be right. No entirely sane man would do what I'm about to, surely.

"We go with your plan again. Try and make it work this time."

–

He's at the end of the street, looking for me.

I shall have to oblige.

I step, carefully, out into the sunshine. I think he's almost surprised when I charge. It is, after all, a phenomenally poor decision. Still, it's what I do. And I hope with all my heart that my new ally hasn't given up and run.

He hasn't. From the dark of an alleyway, to the left of and slightly behind my target, a spear flashes and lunges for his unprotected flank.

It goes poorly. Quicker than I would have thought possible, the giant turns, catching the strike on his gauntlet, his good hand snatching the boy up by the throat.

I almost flinch as the man spins, and dashes the boy's brains out against the wall. A small, painstakingly preserved part of me flinches in horror, but the rest of me notes the way the man did it. The detached brutality of it- the workmanlike savageness, he never betrays a flicker of emotion as he tosses the ruined corpse aside, merely giving the brief nod that acknowledges a job satisfiability performed.

I slow, and stop, as he turns back to face me. I nod, one craftsman to another. And as the muscles in his neck bunch, and his stance stiffens, I hurl my blade overarm.

It catches him between the eyes, the sword burying itself up to the hilt. He sways for one, two seconds, then-

Perhaps I should not have hit him in the centre of his forehead, because that is where his firebending was focused, and therefore it stands to reason that he has to _explode_.

Which, as I turn away, he does. Wetly.

I duck almost before I hear something scything towards me, and it's not quite quick enough, as I feel something slice a chunk out of my left ear as a dark shape whips past my head. It damn near trims my sideburns as it flies past, and the sword lands blade-first, embedding itself in the flagstones.

After another moment, my knees give out, and I sink to the ground, just long enough to close my eyes and catch my breath.

Then, as people begin to look out from houses and around corners, I retrieve my weapon, and begin the long walk up to my home.

–

Azula rolled over on the hard wood of the saddle, eyes screwed shut. By her reckoning, the last of the others had been asleep for about ten minutes. Well, apart from-

"You're still awake?" a voice murmured, from the front of the bison.

Azula sighed. "Yes." Apart from him.

"Good.  Good."  He looked uncomfortable, like he wanted to say something she wouldn't like, but was trying to find a positive way to phrase it.  "'Cause I've got some questions for you?  If that's okay?"

"Oh?" In truth, she wasn't surprised. In fact, she was a little amazed that he had waited this long to confront her. If she were in his position, she would have made sure that her questions were asked in full view of those other three, upon whom she could theoretically depend. She wondered what his game might be.

"Yeah."

"Tell me, what incentive are you going to give me to answer them?"

"I don't know, goodwill?"

"Hah. Well, as it happens, I have some questions of my own to ask you." There was no reason, now he had broached the concept, that she shouldn't take the opportunity to settle a few nagging questions of her own.

"A question for a question, huh?"

"It seems fair, doesn't it?"

"I go first."

"...Fine," she conceded, grudgingly.

"Really?  Great! Okay, here goes. The whole 'your mom's a prisoner on Ember Island' thing. Where did you get that information from? 'Cause, you know, kinda suspicious, if you don't mind me saying."

This question she had anticipated. "A note. Not to me. I intercepted a message between two people in the Air Temple." She gave a brief explanation of the particulars.

"...Uh huh. And it didn't occur to you that this could be, maybe, a trap?"

"I do believe it's my turn first."

"...Fine. Ask away."

She looked up, fixing him with a steady gaze. "Why. Why did you agree to this? You cannot deny this is running contrary to your interests."

He sighed, and sat back, heavily.  "...Look. You know I wanted Aang to be more active with the Earth Kingdom. Thing is, Aang won't. And if I was gonna push him any more, there's no telling what could'a happened, but it wouldn't have been good. So _my interests_ weren't on the table anyway, which leaves us five against the Fire Nation. You want this, Aang wanted anything other than to stay cooped up in the Air Temple. This way, you're both happy."

"So this is nothing but maintaining group cohesion, then?"

"Hey, my question first." Damn.

"Ah yes. You wanted to know if I had realised it could be a trap. Yes, of course I did. The Fire Lord could have manipulated that in order to lure us out into the Fire Nation. But I don't think he did. I think it was someone else entirely. There is a... secret society. They call themselves the Order of the White Lotus, a pretentious name, I know. I think they may be behind this. If they are, prepare for complications. Whatever you do, do not let yourself think you are in their debt. They will use you, and destroy you."

His brows furrowed, abruptly.  "Wild shot in the dark here. There a tall guy, dark hair, goatee, uses a sword really, really well?"

It was a violation of the rules, but Azula set the game aside for the moment.

"Master Piandao?"

"Yeah! That was his name! 'Concerned citizens', my _ass_."

Well. File that one away for later.

"Anyway. I believe you owe me an answer."

"Yeah. …Alright, you're right. There's more to it. Look, I know you're not telling us everything. And you don't have to, we've had that talk. But the point is, even if half of what you've told us is true... look, this is gonna sound weird, but it seems to me like you've had a string of really bad days now and... agh."  He shook his head, and rubbed his eyes, frustrated.  "Look. Let me start over. I agreed to this because like it or not you're on Team Avatar, now, and that means something. You don't trust us, fair enough, we haven't done anything to give you a reason yet. But you can't be part of the group unless we trust you, so I'm kind of stuck in a paradox here. Basically, I guess I have to let you show me that you're trustworthy."

"...I ...see." And she did, after a fashion. For all his overtures of caution, he seemed to be taking this 'team spirit' concept seriously. Azula didn't quite know what to make of that, so she pushed it aside. "Did you have another question?"

"...Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

"...Well? Get on with it." But suddenly she noticed his smirk.

"...I think I'll ask it later. I'm _really_ tired."

Azula seethed at falling into such a predictable trap, but nodded, the very picture of composed acceptance. "Very well." After all, she had never promised to tell the _truth_. "But I get the last question." Even though she had been outmanoeuvred, she would extract her fair share of answers.

"Sure. Knock yourself out."

"What are you going to tell the Avatar about the eclipse?"

He actually flinched. "...I don't know. I mean, the Earth Kingdom guys seem to have it well enough in hand, and I guess it's too late now. I mean, midsummer's in what, two weeks? There's not a whole lot we can do with this in the time we've got, unless you wanna put off this rescue mission of ours for another week." He must have seen the look on her face, from the way he almost smiled. "Yeah, didn't think you'd go for that."

That made things simpler, at least.

Azula had sat for hours as the Northern Air Temple vanished from sight, the thought if the midsummer eclipse churning in her brain. It was almost elegantly horrifying- the thought of being cut off from the light of Agni, even for a few minutes, was like the bottom dropping out of her stomach- and she had been understandably concerned about what Sokka might have coerced the Avatar into doing with that brief window of helplessness.

"Well, in that case, if you don't tell him, then I won't tell him that you aren't telling him." And this time, she couldn't help but smirk. "After all, the Avatar seems the type that would be quite hurt if he knew you were keeping secrets like this from him."

Sokka blinked, twice.

"...Are you _blackmailing_ me for doing something that helps you in the first place? Ten out of ten for _pure evil_ style, but talk about having your cake and eating it."

Azula shrugged. "What _else_ is one supposed to do with cake?"

"Point."

–

I roll up my map, and shove it into my satchel. Behind me, Fat lurks in the doorway, silent as the grave.

It was a mistake, staying here. I should not have relaxed. I should not have let my guard down. I got complacent, got lazy, and as ever another died to pay for my mistakes.

Damn it.

"I shall leave in the morning. You know what to do in my absence."

"Of course, Master."

"If any late messages arrive for me, deal with them as you see fit- I will be away from communication lines until the hawk tower." And by then it will be too late to make any changes, of course.

"Of course, Master."

"Oh, and make sure that the people of Shu Jing are properly compensated. I fear the fight today left a great deal damaged."

"Of course, Master."

That's everything, I think.

"Oh, and if anyone comes looking-"

"Do you mean any _one_ or _any_ one, Master?"

"Whichever inflection indicates large violent people trying to kill me."

"Ah. Of course, Master."

"Anyway. If any such people come looking, I want you to take no unnecessary risks. Run if you must, burn this house to the ground if you really have to. But try not to let yourself get killed, if you can."

"If you insist, Master."

"Thank you. Now I believe I shall retire. I have a long way to go in the morning."

No more rest. No more relaxation. The eclipse is coming, and we must all be ready for it.

Starting tomorrow, the Order of the White Lotus rides to war.


	31. Breaking Curfew

_Or,_

_ Innocence has no Resistance Against a Wicked Counsellor Such as I. _

–

In the end, I waited until the messenger-hawks arrived.

I think I mentioned before, but this is the last batch. After today, it will be too late to change anything.

Nothing from our agents in the Capital. I wish I could say I was surprised. Their silence has gone on long enough to eliminate from probability everything but their capture, death, or betrayal.

I do not ... _think_ it is betrayal. I cannot be certain, of course. But these were not some green acolytes, to be turned by promises of gold or threats of reprisal. They were good men and women, and more importantly, seasoned spies and provocateurs. (That man we used as Ozai's contact had been a seasoned spy, too.)

If even one of them has been captured, then _theoretically_ we could be in a great deal of trouble. Of course, we have a pair of agents in every major prison in the Fire Nation, so if the spies have been captured, we shall hear of it, and the spy will find him or her self rescued in short order. Or, if rescue is impossible and they look close to breaking, they will find their meal adulterated with arsenic before they can give away anything important.

They were aware of the risks when they took the job.

I left before the sun had reached mid-morning.

–

"Avatar."

It was the first word Azula had spoken in almost two days. The flight to Ember Island- the long, torturously slow flight- had been a twisted dagger in her gut, and she had withdrawn more into herself with each passing day, doubt and fear and despicable weakness gnawing at her every moment of the way. But no more. Now they were too close to indulge weaknesses. Now she had to lay out her plan, while there was still time left.

At her request, the Avatar handed her a map of the Southern Isles, and she sighed to herself as she looked at it- as she had feared, the map was sketchy and imprecise. Still, it would have to serve, and she unrolled it on the floor of the saddle, everyone crowding to get a better look.

"When we arrive, it must be from the North-East, and low. It is _imperative_ that we keep the mountain between us and the South coast."

She glanced up, noting with no surprise but some irritation that they still looked to Sokka for approval. _Oh no, the girl who isn't our designated brain-cell operator is doing the thinking, what madness is this_. Still, she supposed it was to be expected. Which was why she had expected it, she supposed.

Sokka, for his part, merely looked at the map behind half-lidded eyes. He was _judging_ her, she realised, after a second. He was practically awarding _marks_.

She baulked at his condescension, but thankfully only internally. This was not the time to make him question her. There would be time for that later, when it could be managed properly.

She was not blinded by her ego. She was well aware that the plan she was laying before them could easily and accurately be described as a _bad plan_. But it was the one that gave her the best chance of getting Mother out unharmed, so it was the one she was going to present.

"We should make a landing in the jungle, preferably along the bank of the river here." She traced the blue line on the map with a fingertip- the cartographer was clearly guessing as to the exact path the river took, but she remembered its existence well enough. It would serve.

They seemed to be on board so far. Now came the difficult bit. She had realised early on that it was unlikely that from here the Avatar's group would trust her enough to let her wander off into the jungle with only Sokka acting as a chaperone, so instead of trying to work around this limitation, she had made it a cornerstone of her strategy. All she had to do was sell it.

"You two," Azula said, pointing at the Avatar and the earthbender, "will need to stay with the bison."

That went down as well as could be expected. She waited for the both of them to be occupied getting their breath back, and explained.

"Avatar, it will be one thing for the Fire Lord to learn that one of his high-ranking prisoners has escaped. It would be quite another if he were to learn that the Avatar was the one that broke her out. We should not reveal you unless it is necessary. The longer Iroh thinks that you are still holed up in the Northern Air Temple, the better. So unless you wish to simply kill everyone that sees you- which is entirely workable, if a little _inelegant_ , it would be better if you were to sit this one out."

She waited for her argument to sink in.

"I've gotta say, Aang, it makes sense."

"Yeah," the earthbender chimed in. "But why do _I_ have to sit on the sidelines?"

Azula shrugged. "My plan requires a certain degree of tact. Rest assured, when a wall needs to be kicked in, you will be the first I turn to."

From the earthbender's reaction, Azula supposed that she had hit 'offensive' rather than 'amusingly blunt'. Oh well. Still, she heard no further objection from that corner.

"Right," the waterbender said, deftly puncturing a growing pause and managing to keep the discussion on topic, "so what comes after that?"

"From there, the plan hinges on locating a patrol..."

–

The jungle was hot and humid and buzzing with half-remembered nostalgia that Azula tried not to think about. The memories weren't in themselves bad- the worst were simply boring, watching the Ember Island Players mutilate show after show- but they were saturated with Mother and Father and Zuko, and Azula couldn't afford to be distracted. Not now.

So she sat in her patch of undergrowth and hoped that she was remembering her military protocol correctly. It would be dreadfully embarrassing if she had gotten that wrong.

Fortunately, after about ten minutes, her memory was vindicated, as the distinctive sounds of armour moving through the undergrowth approached.

 _Remember_ , Azula had said, _we need the armour undamaged,_

They remembered. Royal Guard though the man was, he never stood a chance.

"Right," Azula said, stepping out of the undergrowth once it was over. "Change," she nodded at Sokka.

"On it. …D'you mind turning around? I think I can be trusted to put a shirt on without your constant supervision, you know."

Azula rolled her eyes, but turned around nonetheless.

–

"Stand up straighter," she hissed, as the three began their approach to the house. "And stick your shoulders back more."

"Oh, sorry." He corrected his stance. Possibly too much- he almost looked like he was parodying correct posture, with an added swagger worthy of the most overinflated major-general.

Still, it would serve her purposes, she supposed.

–

She felt as though she had been watching him for hours.

She was perched in a tree situated near the back of the house, watching Sokka swagger across the open ground from the jungle to the house. So far, he had not drawn attention to himself, somehow. It was human nature, she supposed. He so _obviously_ thought he belonged there that it was hard to imagine stopping him for any reason.

She had outlined the plan to the Water Tribe siblings. Katara was to stay in the jungle as backup, because Sokka was taller and broader-shouldered, and they only had the one uniform. She had instructed Sokka that his role was to provide backup- he would enter in disguise, and make his way to the second floor, where the bedrooms were, where he would meet with Azula, who was entering through the window.

Azula watched, as he finally, _finally_ made it into the house. Looking up and into the window, she nodded to herself- the guard was still in the hallway, which all but confirmed that Mother was in the guest bedroom (which was just bizarre enough for Azula to focus on and keep her from panicking)- but that was a problem that would resolve itself in a few moments.

She had not been entirely truthful with Sokka. She had assured him that all he had to do was act as though he belonged, and he would get into the house. This was true. What she had _failed_ to mention was that once he was in, he would be subject to a great deal more scrutiny than he had faced outside, and his disguise would be worth only as much protection it offered from the attentions of every soldier in the building.

In short, he was not acting as backup-

She nodded to herself as from somewhere on the ground floor of the house came the distinctive sound of a man being hit with a chair. In the hall across from her, the guard looked up suddenly, and rushed for the stairs. Perfect.

-He was a distraction.

He would likely be fine, she reminded herself. It would be foolish of them to actually _kill_ him without interrogating him first, which gave her the time she would need.

A short blast of flame obliterated the windowpane, and Azula leapt into the house.

–

It took three strides for Azula to get from the shattered window to the door to the guest rooms, but once there, she hesitated, wracked even then with indecision and cowardice.

What was she going to say? Were there even words to find? The shame that had been hanging over her nights was a palpable weight around her neck, now, and she felt her breath coming in shallow bursts.

No. She had come too far to panic on the threshold. Steeling herself, she opened the door.

And walked into an empty drawing-room. She almost laughed.

Scanning the room, her attention was suddenly captured by an horrific sight- a pale and gaunt figure, with hollow, sunken eyes peering out from beneath a ragged fringe.

It was her own reflection in a full-length mirror, but the fact gave her no comfort at all.

She had thought herself above petty vanities, but the sudden and unavoidable knowledge that she was no longer beautiful was more upsetting than she was prepared for, and she almost flinched to see herself. She had always prided herself on her appearance, especially her hair, and seeing it so knotted and lustreless was another unwelcome reminder of just how far she had fallen, and how far she had left to go.

 _Perhaps Mother will not even recognise me_ , she thought, and the idea was strangely comforting.

Then, suddenly, she heard the sound of movement- not from downstairs, though evidence of disturbance still echoed up from the floorboards- from the bedroom.

Mother. It could only be Mother. Azula was suddenly gripped by a mad urge to run.

But even if she had meant to, there was no time, because Ursa burst violently into the room, brandishing a poker.

A crash and a clatter, and the poker fell to the floor.

"Azula? ...Have I finally lost my mind, then?" Ursa asked, in a bizarrely conversational tone.

Azula simply blinked, eyelids fluttering as her carefully mustered composure fractured and crumbled away.

As though in a dream, Ursa raised her hand, and took a tentative step towards her daughter.

Azula opened her mouth to say something- anything, but before she could utter a syllable the breath was crushed out of her as her mother flung her arms around her.

"You are alive. You are alive. Thank the spirits, you are _alive_."

"Mother-" she closed her eyes again, and threw her arms around her mother's shoulders. Not a sign of affection- a desperate, possessive attempt to assure herself that the woman before her was real and tangible- as if she doubted the evidence of her own eyes.

But in another second, the blood had drained from her face, and before she even knew what she was doing she was pulling away form her mother, all senses alert, checking for danger.

Too late she realised that she had not heard the sounds of fighting from below for some time.

At that moment, right on cue, she heard echoing up from the stairwell the sound of Sokka beginning to scream.

The sound punched a hole in her head, but it was not truly horrible until she heard him strangle out a word, in response to a question she couldn't hear.

" _Alone! Alone!"_

He was not believed. Armoured feet hammered on the stairs, and in a rush, she grabbed at her mother's arm.

"We have to get out of here," Azula said, with grim determination, pulling Ursa out into the hallway, towards the broken window. "Now."


	32. With No Cards

_or,_

_Love is Whatever you can Still Betray._

–

Azula's grip on her mother's arm was relentless as she all but dragged her to the ruined window. It was all about _time_ \- Sokka had bought them as much as he could, but he was spent now (he would live. Probably. For now, focus on the task at hand. She had a plan, after all.)- they had to be clear of the house before anyone saw her. It would be... _inconvenient_ if the Fire Lord were to discover that she was still alive.

Mother, as expected, was a problem (but not as much as she had feared- it turned out that Ursa had already packed, just in case)- she was taller, and had a longer reach than her daughter, but she was no trained combatant. So jumping out the window was out of the question.

–

It seemed to Azula, as she watched her mother gingerly climbing down the ornamentation on the wall, that any guard that happened upon them would almost as likely start laughing at their awkward and tentative attempt at escape as actually attempt to apprehend them.

Fortunately, all was quiet (Azula couldn't even hear anything happening inside the house any more. She didn't know what to make of that, so she tried not to make anything.), and before she knew it, they were both safely on the ground. So far, all more or less according to plan.

Azula spared her mother a nod, and turned towards the undergrowth, where she promptly ran head-first into a low-hanging branch.

" _Azula_!" Ursa hissed, but her daughter waved her away distractedly. With her other hand, she felt at her face, where she had been struck. A few scratches, yes, and what felt like the beginnings of a black eye, _perfect_...

She took off at a trot, nimbly avoiding any further foliage, while Ursa followed, confused. Azula ran her fingers through her hair, letting small sparks rattle off her hands- just enough to char, no need to damage her hair too much, after all she was still fond of it- and slapped burning palms to her clothes for the briefest of seconds, applying strategic burn marks to her suit. And her disguise was completed just moments before she, with a thoroughly baffled Ursa in tow, burst into the clearing where Katara was waiting.

The waterbender looked up abruptly. "Alright, let's-" her eyes flicked from Azula to her mother and back again and widened "-where's Sokka?"

Azula made a point of bending almost double, and pointing vaguely to the house, just visible through the treeline.

"We were... we had to... he said to run."

For a moment, the air froze.

"He _what_?"

Suddenly, all the humidity of the jungle clearing was gone. At their feet, the grass turned brown and died, crackling and dry as though there'd been a drought. And then Katara screamed- a keening howl of a war-cry that (although of course she was never going to acknowledge it) sent a momentary chill dancing up and down Azula's spine- and then the waterbender was barrelling up the hill, trailing a vast plume of water behind her, fluttering like a cloak.

Azula had always thought of water as, well, _soft._ Weak; yielding. Of exceptionally limited use as a weapon of war.

That was before she saw Katara with something to fight for. Katara wielded her element like the fist of some forgotten god. One horizontal brush of her arm, and a section of wall was simply _gone_ , and a scything plume of ice split the roof in two like an eggshell. Thus satisfied that she had sufficient room to enter, Katara strode inside. Then, shortly after, screams echoed from the stricken building, loud enough for Azula to clearly hear, even down on the edge of the jungle. And, shortly afterwards, they abruptly stopped again.

"Well," said Ursa, brightly, "it's nice to see you making some more friends your own age, dear. I've always said you needed to get out of the Palace a little more."

–

The figure Katara half-carried, half-dragged out of the remains of the house was so mangled it actually took Azula a second to recognise him. Eyelids swollen shut- or was he just unconscious?- blood smeared across his face and stained his throat (teeth missing?), and a long scorch mark across his arm- the armour was torn and dented where it wasn't blackened.

And then she saw his leg, and just caught a gasp before she vocalised it.

Knees were supposed to bend, it was true, but definitely not in that direction.

She tore her eyes upwards, ignoring the niggling little thought that said nothing more eloquent than _your fault_ , and locked eyes with Katara.

Stick to the plan. Anything else can wait. Reunions, recriminations, taking the time to work out exactly what she had _done_ , they could wait. Survival came first.

"Will there be more?" she asked the waterbender, curtly.

Katara considered this for a moment, then nodded.

"Then we move."

–

The earthbender was angry, that much was plain.

Everyone had reacted differently to the (as far as anyone else knew) collapse of the plan- the waterbender's desperate, frantic competence, the Avatar's simple confusion and worry, Mother's detached bewilderment- but the earthbender had blinked from horrified shock to silent anger in the time it had taken to load Sokka's prone form onto the sky bison and take to the air.

The question, however, was _why_.

The girl's body language was strange. It was her blindness, certainly, that caused it-she of course never attempted to make eye contact, and if she moved her head it was for the benefit of her ears, not her eyes- but, remarkably, her facial expressions were a perfect mask of bottled fury. But where was it _directed_?

It might be at the soldiers, for hurting him. It might be at herself, for not being close enough to help.

It might be at her.

But Azula couldn't read the girl, not like this, and so she remained a dangerous enigma.

Azula had perhaps directed twelve words in total towards the earthbender, and now she was sorely regretting it. She had observed Bei Fong for long enough to ascertain that she was neither a leader nor a planner, long enough to learn where her loyalties lay, then put her out of mind. Hubris, it was simple hubris. And now she was paying for it.

–

"Azula," Mother said, abruptly, breaking the long silence of the flight. Azula inclined her head slightly, indicating that she had heard, but said nothing.

Ursa inhaled, slowly, and didn't quite meet her daughter's eyes.

"Azula, I have to ask. Is Zuko..."

"Dead," Azula snapped. "In the woods. The Avatar burned him well enough." Azula noted the way Aang's shoulders set at the mention of his name, but didn't turn around.

Azula swung her head over the side, watching the sea curl away beneath them. Anything was preferable to watching the faces arrayed before her.

It was a long time before Ursa spoke again.

"I... had to ask, Azula. You understand," she said, her voice tinged with a distant ring of steel.

"Of course." She had to be sure.

The silence that fell remained unbroken until they arrived at the Western Air Temple.

–

The Western Air Temple was everything Azula had been told, and nothing she had believed.

Nestled under the lip of a gigantic cliff edge, hanging above a yawning chasm, it had to be the single most overawing architectural specimen in the entire world, and Azula stared in muted wonder at the inverted tower, trying to reconcile this impossible ruin with the fact that it had been a place where people once _lived_.

She was jolted out of this reverie as the bison touched down in a large courtyard, and the Avatar and waterbender gingerly picked up Sokka.

He hadn't woken up the entire trip- two days and two nights in the air, almost dead silent the entire time, and he hadn't so much as moved.

He'd been hit in the head, his sister had said. No more elaboration than that. Azula was no doctor, but she knew enough to recognise that a head injury sent everything spinning into uncertainty- and every possible scenario she couldn't help but imagine was worse than the last. It wasn't helpful, it wasn't _necessary_ , but her brain couldn't help but dwell on just _how_ bad everything had turned, and how much worse it could still become.

"Come on," Ursa said, arms full of blankets and other supplies. "Let's get him somewhere warmer than out here." Azula thought that Mother was just glad to have something to do, finally. Azula dismounted, sliding down the flank of the bison, removed from the rest of the group, who disembarked from the tail.

As the waterbender and the Avatar moved away in Mother's wake, Azula tentatively made to follow.

But her foot wouldn't move. She looked down, and saw the bands of stone pinning her foot to the floor.

And, as her eyes trained on the tail end of the waterbender's dress as it disappeared into the darkness of the temple (leaving her alone (not quite alone) in the courtyard) some sixth sense felt the earthbender rising behind her.

Without thinking, she half-turned on her trapped heel and lashed out, a plume of flame that never even came close to making contact. In response, the earth bucked and kicked beneath her, knocking her to the ground.

Before she could even move to stand, the flagstones had leapt upwards, and Azula was trapped. Like a rat in a cage.

And the earthbender advanced, four-foot-nothing of condensed fury.

Azula backed away, instinctively, and hit stone. Nowhere to turn, nowhere to run. No way to fight back.

She fought to keep her breathing level. There was a way. A way to fight back. A way to escape. A surprise attack, once the earthbender was in range? No. She could barely extend her arms fully in this stone cage, let alone attempt effective firebending. And besides, even if she _could_ then what? Could she undo her prison? No.

She was trapped. No escape, not this time.

Her heart rattled in her chest as the diminutive figure approached, even as Azula fought to bring herself under control. Then, quite abruptly, bare feet away, the earthbender stopped short, and cocked her head in confusion, or... curiosity.

Azula's breath caught in her throat as the realisation tore through her like shards of ice.

 _She can feel it. She can feel every breath you take, every beat of your heart. She knows. She knows_.

 _NO_. She suspects, at worst. She _cannot_ know, Azula reasoned, frantically, because Azula barely knew what she had done herself.

Unfortunately, flimsy logical fallacies were no defence against Toph Bei Fong, possibly because she didn't know what those words meant.

"Alright," the earthbender snarled, low and dangerous. "What did you do?"

"What are you talking about?" Azula asked. "I didn't do-"

" _Don't you lie to me!"_ the diminutive girl fairly _screamed_ , and Azula flinched inwardly as the walls of her cage shrank by a handful of inches. "You go off into the woods following _your_ plan and Sokka comes back all- all" there was a moment of terrified introspection on the girl's part, but before Azula could capitalise on it it was gone "- _mangled_ , and _you_ , you're walking along like you don't even care but inside? You _reek_ of guilt. The whole way here, every time anyone so much as _breathed_ too loud you were jumping outta your skin. So _spill_ , before I do it for you."

Azula fought to remain calm. This could ruin everything. She had to find a way to avoid telling the earthbender anything. And, preferably, do so without giving the earthbender further excuse to crush her to death. The seconds dragged as Azula forced herself to concentrate, to ignore the fact that she was standing in a dead city hanging in the sky, ignore the gnawing dread that intensified with every second that Mother was out of her sight, and simply _think_.

Her only weapon was words. What could she say that could save her life?

And the answer was before her, simple and crisp. She almost gasped in relief.

"What are you going to do?" Azula asked, as quietly as she could- sound sneering, or sure of herself, and all she would do was fuel the earthbender's suspicions.

She could hardly suppress a grin as she watched the wheels begin to turn in Bei Fong's head. As long as the earthbender was actually attempting to outthink her, Azula was confident that she had a clear advantage. The earthbender may ( _may_ ) have stumbled upon the truth, but she had stumbled over it blindly- she had no evidence, nothing but gut feeling and the wobbly and completely incidental evidence that Azula's heartbeat was behaving erratically- and Azula had a thousand excuses for _that_ on hand, all more plausible-sounding than 'feeling guilty because she nearly killed Sokka'. And Azula was reasonably sure that the earthbender couldn't go to the Avatar with just that.

Azula stood perfectly still, barely daring to breathe, as she watched the earthbender realise what a castle made of sand her accusations really were.

Doubt. Doubt was the most subtle of poisons.

"I," Bei Fong snarled, nostrils flaring (anger was an _excellent_ way to avoid looking like you were backing down) "will be _watching_ you."

And with that, Azula's prison crumbled, and the earthbender was gone, following the rest of the group into the bowels of the air temple.

Azula felt it might be best if she stayed in the courtyard. Just for a little while.

–

It felt like she spent days propped up against a pillar, leaning as nonchalantly as she didn't feel, staring out at the orange sky. The sun was setting, turning the mist that squatted stubbornly in the canyon into spun gold.

After a long while, she heard the sounds of footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw the waterbender, shuffling out into the courtyard like a sleepwalker.

She looked... wrung out. Azula wasn't sure if that was a good sign. Judging from the girl's hunched and shuttered posture, the news wasn't positive.

Azula sidled, the very picture of nonchalance, over to the fountain, where the waterbender was sitting, staring at the flagstones.

The way she failed to glare daggers at Azula as she approached was a positive sign, perhaps.

Then Azula noticed the way that Katara was staring blankly at her own shaking hands, and a spike of dread lanced through her.

"It was too close. I wasn't- I didn't even think about what I was doing, and they- they almost _killed_ him. They had a knife to his throat and I didn't even slow down. If I'd been just a breath slower, they would have- and it would've been my fault."

 _Would've. Was._ Past tense. Not dead. _Not dead_. Azula clung to the idea like flotsam in a storm. She could still make this right. She still had a chance.

"He'll be okay. He should be okay. But what was he _thinking_? He can't start thinking he can throw his life away like that. He _knows_ we can't do this without him. He knows." Katara stared deeper into nothing, and appeared to come to a decision. "I am going to have a _word_ with him when he wakes up."

Azula blinked. "He is still unconscious?" This was potentially _very_ good.

"Yeah." For the first time, Katara looked up into Azula's face, and managed a wobbly smile. "Your mom just kicked me out of there as soon as it looked like he was just sleeping. She said I needed to get some rest."

Azula nodded, only half listening.

"Yes, you probably should. So, do you have any idea how long he'll be sleeping?"

Katara gave her an appraising look. Azula was careful to ensure that she radiated nothing but honest concern for the wellbeing of a fellow lackey of the Avatar.

Eventually, she shrugged.

"No idea. Hopefully not too long."

Azula blinked. "I thought you were supposed to be the expert," she said, before she realised that that probably came out as an insult. Katara, however, simply rolled her eyes.

"Why does everyone _assume_ that? I sat in on two weeks' worth of healing lessons, and I spent the entire time wishing I was anywhere else instead. I'm doing the best I can, and that's all."

Well. There didn't appear to be anything Azula could really say to that. So she departed, looking for a quiet corner to lurk in for an hour or two, before she went to check on Sokka.

After all, the earthbender would probably get angry if she found Azula hanging about outside his door, and that wasn't something Azula wanted to deal with at the moment.

–

In spite of her urgency, in spite of the _need_ to speak to Sokka before he had a chance to talk to any of the others, Azula slowed on her way to his room.

This was her only chance. When the earthbender finally went to the Avatar with her suspicions- and Azula was certain she would, in time- Azula could only see two possible outcomes: either she would have Sokka on her side, or she would be forcibly exiled from the Avatar's company.

She was painfully aware of how little use she had proved to the Avatar so far. She had taught him no firebending. She had demanded he abandon his allies in the Earth Kingdom. She had dragged his friends into danger and injury. If it came to light that she had (indirectly, completely indirectly) had a hand in _causing_ said injuries, it seemed almost impossible that he would decide that she was worth the trouble.

And then where would she be? Exiled again at best, this time with _nothing_. No, she would not let it come to that. That was why she was moving to see Sokka now, before he saw anybody else. She was getting on top of the situation before it got out of hand.

She was confident he would see things her way eventually. Reasonably confident.

Her buoyed mood lasted until she turned the corner to Sokka's room and ran straight into the diminutive earthbender.


	33. Mishandled

_or,_

_ And a Rock Feels no Pain. _

_\--  
_

So close. She had been _so close_. And now it was all for nothing, because the earthbender had talked to Sokka first. And he didn't look happy.

At all.

What had he told her? How long had they been talking? Had it been long enough to bring up the... _discrepancies_ between her version of events back on the Island and his?

His expression said yes. Yes it had.

His nostrils flared as he looked at her, and it seemed as though he was about to speak. Azula cut him off with a raised hand.

"This was always the plan. There was simply no other way to get Mother out safely. If it had been possible to rescue her without getting you injured, I would have done it." She took a breath, and moved on, in a business-like tone. "Still, it appears that you will make a full recovery, relatively quickly, so no permanent harm done. However, we have to decide what we are going to tell the Avatar."

Sokka blinked, shocked out of his anger. "What?" he asked; utterly bewildered.

"You said it yourself. We must maintain group cohesion. Now-"

" _What?"_ he snapped, anger resurging, rising up off his elbows, barely flinching at the effort. _"What?"_

Sokka blinked, slowly. His adam's apple danced, swallowing whatever he was about to say.

The next words out of his mouth were a pantomime of reasonability.

"So hold up. Let me see if I've got this right. After you _lied_ to me, after you set it up so I'd get discovered, beaten up, and maybe killed – _and if you say 'I knew they wouldn't kill you' then I will throw something at you_ \- and I wake up three days later and discover that you've told everyone that this was _my_ idea... you want _my_ help covering it up? You want me to lie to Aang on _your_ behalf?"

Azula swallowed, deliberately.

"Yeah, _no._ "

Azula felt her own temper mounting in the face of his petulant attitude. "I have _told_ you, there was simply no other safe way to get Mother out. You were injured, which was regrettable, but you will make a full recovery in less than a week, and this attitude does not help-"

She could see the way he flushed from clear across the room, and for one terrible second, she thought he might actually try to get up.

"Don't you _get_ it? I'm not mad because I got my leg broken, I'm- _you lied to me!_ "

Her brain whirled, looking for the answer to this predicament, trying to find a way to wait what did he just say?

Oh. _Oh._

She had _utterly_ mishandled this. From beginning to end, she had mishandled it.

Her lack of reaction cut the fight from Sokka, and he slumped back into his bed, spent.

"I'm just- I just- leave. Get out. Now."

Azula felt her throat constrict. "How far would you like me to go?"

"Just… _leave me alone_ , okay? Can you do that?" He sounded tired.

So, she was not banished yet. That, at least, was something.

She turned to leave.

"I'm not- I'm not saying anything, not yet. I'm angry, Azula, I'm _really_ angry. And also, if I'm completely honest, a little worried that apparently you need to be _told_ that? And I _really_ don't think you should be asking me to lie to Aang for you. But I'm not gonna say anything. At least until I stop seeing these red spots in front of my eyes."

It was, she supposed, as she beat a tactful retreat, the best outcome she should have reasonably hoped for.

\--

She did not return to the courtyard. She needed time; time to think, and to clear her head.

Sp she disappeared into the guts of the temple, twisting and turning until she found a disused storeroom, near the top (bottom? Near the roof of the cave, in any case) of the temple. Not the most dingy room, nor the most inaccessible, but close. And it had the advantage of having two doors. Just in case.

After maybe half an hour, someone spoke her name.

"Azula."

She looked up to see her mother, standing in the doorway.

"How did you find me?"

"I at least know you well enough to know where you will hide, Azula," she chided, gently. "And I want to make sure that you are alright."

Azula's back slid down the wall, her legs folding automatically beneath her.

"I made too many mistakes," she confessed, more to herself than anyone else, amazed at how _difficult_ it was to admit that she had been _wrong_. "I misjudged how they would react, I didn't think about what would _happen_ , and now…" and now they were in jeopardy again, and this time it was she who had put them there.

Ursa smiled, slightly, and moved a little into the room. "You did rescue me, and I, at least, am grateful for that."

There was that. In all the fallout, Azula had almost forgotten that, technically, the operation on Ember Island had been a total success.

That was worth hanging onto, she thought.

Wordlessly, Ursa slumped down the wall opposite Azula. Now they were both at rest, Azula could see her mother properly.

It was a grim picture. Past the hollow cheeks, past the limp and sagging stance, there was something terrible in her eyes. Something defeated.

"There were nights I hated your father," Ursa confessed, abruptly. "For getting mixed up in conspiracies and leaving us like that. For making me _believe_ in him so… utterly. He always seemed so _strong_ , so untouchable." She glanced up, and gave Azula a broken smile. "You never truly saw him fight, did you? You saw him spar, saw him practice, but you never saw him in Agni Kai, did you? He was…" Ursa's eyes unfocused, as she drifted back into memory " _glorious_. Even Iroh in his prime could never have touched him. But in the end, he was just a man. I don't know if I can forgive him for that."

"Iroh has to pay," Azula ground out.

"Yes, he does. And he will," Ursa agreed. "But know this, Azula. If you die in pursuit of revenge, you will kill me."

Azula felt her heart _thud_. "Mother-"

"I am serious, Azula. You are all I have left. If you throw your life away…" For an awful moment, Azula thought that her mother was about to cry. "Don't. Azula, don't you _dare leave me_."

Ursa was shaking, her voice quavering, and Azula _didn't know what to do_. She sat in the gloom, and watched for seven endless seconds as her mother collapsed in front of her. And without any kind of plan, any kind of rationale, Azula shifted forwards and wrapped her arms around Ursa, burying her face in her shoulder.

She heard a damp breath hitch in her mother's throat, and in that second it was the worst sound in the entire world.

\--

The night was spent in silent isolation, perched at the edge of the Avatar's camp, unresponsive and as small as she could bear to make herself.

The next day, she made her way to Sokka's room, and entered without knocking.

She found him staring at the ceiling.

"In a few minutes, the Avatar will be here. To bring you lunch."

That got his attention. He blinked, in a heavy, confused way, and his eyes dropped down to meet hers. One eyebrow arched, delicately.

"O...kay? That's awesome, I guess? I _do_ approve of lunch. Not sure why you figured I needed to be prepared for that, but-"

"I assume that this will prove to a natural time for you and he to... talk."

"Oh. Huh." His eyes curled back to the ceiling, brows furrowed and jaw set. "Yeah, now you mention it."

Then there was just one thing left to say. One more demand to make.

"Whatever happens, my mother had nothing to do with it. I need you to keep her out of this." In the circumstances, her presumption was beyond audacious, but she didn't care. She had a job to do, and she would see it done no matter what she had to do.

Sokka gave her a bland look. "Azula. You're being kinda melodramatic. Look, I can tell you exactly what's gonna-"

" _Promise me_."

"...Okay, fine, if it makes you happy."

She left it at that.

\--

Azula could think of only one place that she could be while the Avatar was having his little meeting. Given the Avatar's talkative nature, and Sokka's own assertion that everyone in his group would be informed of the true version of events on Ember Island, it seemed likely that the earthbender would have her suspicions confirmed.

Azula definitely wanted to be out of view when that happened. And the only way to do that with the earthbender would be...

Azula judged the gulf carefully.

The Western Air Temple was built with airbenders in mind. It was impossible to get anywhere outside of the main structure by foot. Therefore, one of the small buildings (and Azula was still having trouble using that word to describe anything in the Temple, if only because the place seemed like one unfathomably gigantic house) that hung independent of the main structure would (theoretically) be perfect for putting some space between herself and... well, everyone.

If only she could reach any of them by herself.

One seemed close enough- from her vantage point, at the top (bottom) of a tower (for want of a better term) it was only twice as far away as she could jump. Approximately.

Well, if her theory worked as well as she hoped it would, that shouldn't be a problem.

Of course, if she was wrong, then she was dead. But she wasn't wrong.

She was about to bet her life on it.

She took twelve strides back from the abyss, spun on her heel, facing out towards her objective, and started to sprint. Half a second before she tumbled off the ledge into oblivion, she sprang off from her left foot, and her right curled down, kicking downwards with a sharp blast of fire.

And for the briefest of seconds, Azula flew.

She missed the landing, overshooting by several feet, and almost collided head-first with the central pillar, but still. No harm done. And the earthbender was unlikely to find her here.

So she sat, legs hanging off the edge, and waited.

\--

He had not reacted badly because he had been hurt. He had been angry because he felt he had been betrayed. She understood that, now it was too late to do anything.

And that was that. There was nothing else to think about. No puzzle to solve, no riddle to crack. No plan would help her here. Nothing to do but wait.

So she waited. It was preferable to thinking.

Her eyes unfocused, her senses broadened, and all around her the world turned. Glittering insects bobbed and weaved on the cooling air, and birds swung lazily after them, snapping at them as they drifted through the swarms. On the opposite ridge of the canyon, the vibrant green of the jungle was a coloured smear, encroaching on and occasionally even reaching over the lip of the cliff edge, throwing trailing creepers off, to hang in space. If she had peered over the lip of her balcony, she would have seen the river, snaking through the canyon a hundred feet below.

And the sun went down, throwing streaks of orange haze across the sky, and Azula felt the familiar chill settle in her chest at the sight of the moon.

And all of a sudden there was a rush of air, and the sound of someone landing lightly on the stone, somewhere to her left.

"Azula?" The Avatar. She made no move to stand.

"Azula? Are you..." he said, as he carefully shifted his weight, moving ever so slightly with the breeze, "... are you _hiding_?"

Azula didn't deign to dignify that with a response.

"You are, aren't you? It's okay." His tone was ridiculously non-confrontational. She might as well have been a shying komodo-rhino. "I, uh, talked to your mom," he said, uncertainly, one hand scratching at the back of his neck. "She's nice."

Azula turned to look at him better, but still said nothing, waiting to see where this was going.

"I talked to Sokka, too."

Ah.

Well, she would not cower, at least. Holding her pride close to her chest, she rose to her full height, clearing him by almost a foot, and looked him in the eye.

"And what did you talk about?"

He didn't react as she expected. No glowering, no attempt to browbeat her, no anger. Not even any real disappointment. Just a sigh and –in a moment of unspeakable audacity- a commiserating pat on the shoulder.

"Come on. Let's get back to the others."

Azula blinked, and he must have seen something in her expression, from the way he smiled.

"Not gonna lie, everyone's pretty mad- actually, _Toph's_ pretty mad, Katara's _really_ mad- but we understand. You wanted to make sure your Mom was safe, and you made a mistake. We've all made mistakes. Nobody's gonna toss you into the canyon, trust me."

 _Trust me_. She supposed she had to. "Not even th- Katara?" She supposed that it would be best to start making a point of using their actual names.

The way Aang looked like he was seriously considering her question worried her, but after a moment, he laughed at her, and she realised it had been a show for her benefit. "Sokka talked her down pretty quick, don't worry. Now come on, dinner's getting cold."

As he extended a bridge of stone, connecting them with the main temple complex, a thought crossed his face, and he turned back to her.

"How did you get across here, anyway?"

Azula smirked. "Trade secret." A thought occurred to her. "And on that note, I think we have delayed long enough. Your training begins tomorrow. Meet me at the fountain. Before sunrise."


	34. A Fulcrum and a Place to Stand

_or,_

_ Yesterday You'd Forgiven Me, but it'll Still be Two Days 'til I say I'm Sorry. _

_\--  
_

"Why are we up so early?" the Avatar groused, around a yawn.

Azula stood in the centre of the courtyard, hands clasped behind her back, staring at the orange smear that coloured the edge of the sky.

"We're waiting. You have to _feel_ the sun, before you attempt anything. It's – it's-" Azula couldn't help but yawn herself, and felt her eyelids strain. She should have gotten more sleep last night. "The sun is important. You'll see."

The minutes dragged on, and the two stood, staring, as gingerly the sun poured itself over the horizon. Rays of sunlight punctuated the sky, and Azula felt the comforting warmth settle in her chest, and all throughout her body she felt her limbs warming and blood pumping. Everything felt clearer in the light of day- darkness was cloying, like everything was wrapped in cotton.

"Feel that?"

The Avatar screwed up his brow in concentration. "I feel… _something_. It's… I guess I've never stopped to think about it before. This is a firebender thing?"

"It is _the_ firebender thing," Azula explained. "If you want to do this-" she swung her arm forward, trailing a streamer of fire ten feet long and three feet wide, lashing out into the air "-you have to start with the sun. There are other ways to fuel your strength, but none so… abundant."

Aang grinned from ear to ear. "So, when do we start doing that?"

Azula smirked. "Later. First, you need to learn to breathe."

"…I've been doing it wrong?"

"Probably."

\--

Azula wasn't entirely sure where she stood, with the Avatar group. Aang himself appeared to consider the matter a closed book, at least for the moment.

No, that was being uncharitable, but more importantly it didn't seem to be in his nature to bring up something he claimed to have forgiven her for, just to have hanging over her in case of an argument. As far as he was concerned, it was behind them.

The earthbender was surprising. Toph appeared to be of the opinion that she had somehow got one up on Azula, and now that was sorted out, she could go back to making sarcastic comments and otherwise wasting everybody's time. Azula wasn't sure the girl wouldn't have preferred a straight fight, but she seemed content enough.

The waterbender was disappointed in her, which Azula found galling, in a low-key way. Azula supposed that she would go on being disappointed for a very long time. If the girl wanted to hold on to a grudge, that was her business, she supposed.

As for Sokka… she didn't know what to think about Sokka.

\--

Azula wasn't sure why she kept coming back. Maybe it was because, out of the entire group, he was the only one she had actually held a meaningful conversation with. Maybe she just wanted to avoid the waterbender's glares, or Toph's intolerable smugness.

Maybe she was working up the nerve to apologise.

Whatever it was, over the next week she found herself spending at least an hour a day sitting on the uncomfortable stool that was the only other piece of furniture in his room. At first, he had spent most of his time sleeping, it seemed, but as the days progressed and his sister's healing did its work, he became exponentially more animated.

He seemed to be charitably ignoring the fact that they had argued. In fact, he seemed more relaxed around her than she had ever seen him.  It almost seemed as though he was prepared to let bygones be bygones.

Azula was no fool, though.  She saw what he was thinking.  He simply had no expectations of her any more.  He had reached his hand out, and gotten burned.  He wasn't going to hold a grudge, but he was in no hurry to reach out again, either.

One day, she found him poring over several large scrolls. Several of them, for reasons unknown to Azula, had been dyed blue.

"They're from the Northern Air Temple," he'd elaborated. "You remember that the guys who lived there before had made modifications to the Temple? Indoor heating and stuff."

Azula had nodded.

"Yeah, turns out all that stuff had been invented by one guy. And luckily when the Fire Nation had rolled in, they left his office intact. These are all his notes."

Azula had looked politely blank when Sokka had showed them to her, with obvious enthusiasm. Engineering was a closed book to her.

"It looks like gibberish," she'd said.

Sokka had nodded, excitedly. "Yeah. He wrote in code. Backwards writing, left-to-right, crazy things like that."

"So these are all his notes on his various inventions? Why did you take them? Did you think we would have a chance to install heating in every house we stayed at?"

"No, no, there's more than just the stuff he did on the Air Temple. Look here, this is a sketch of some kinda... I think it's a siege engine, but it might be a musical instrument? And check this out, it's a... I'm not sure what it is, but I'm ninety percent sure it's for throwing fire at people over great distances. And I recognise some of this stuff- it's ingredients for bombs and stuff. It's fascinating."

Azula studied him carefully.

"So you're saying that you were allowed to simply _take_ plans for innumerable war machines?"

He suddenly looked defensive. "Well, How had admitted that none of his guys could figure out how to make them _work_ , since it looks like our mystery inventor never actually finished anything before moving on to something else. So it's not like they were _doing_ anything with them, right?"

"Sokka."

"Yeah?"

"You stole them, didn't you."

"Hey, I did not _steal_ them, I _liberated_ them. They weren't doing anything in that dusty old office, and I figured I could do more with them than they could."

Azula raised an eyebrow.

"That sounds spectacularly arrogant, I hope you realise."

He shrugged, but raised an eyebrow in acquiescence.

"So you stole these plans."

"For their own good. But if you don't like it, don't come crying to me next time you need someone to build a... a... a whatever the hell this is."

"Oh yes. They're _definitely_ better off in your capable hands."

"Shut up."

\--

One morning, a few days after Sokka had woken up, Azula made her way into his room to find him scowling at her over folded arms. Too late she realised that the waterbender had looked even more pleased with herself than usual earlier.

"So," he said, in a flat tone. "You gave me a martyr complex, huh. That's just great. Do you realise that I just got _lectured_? By _Katara_? For being _melodramatic_?" His voice leapt and scrambled into an excited pitch, and his arms snapped free of their fold, gesticulating like a conductor for the Light Frustrated Orchestra. "Don't you get it? _This is worse than the time Toph explained etiquette._ "

There was a story behind that one. Azula raised an eyebrow in an attempt to extract it.

After half an hour of listening to Sokka explain the time that they had been forced to go undercover at an Earth Kingdom society ball, in order to evade a particularly stubborn Fire Nation patrol, she had determined two things: firstly, she was probably too good at getting Sokka to change the subject without him realising it; and secondly, she had absolutely _no_ idea how the four of them had survived before she met them.

\--

Azula had never really had the opportunity to observe the Avatar's band in repose before. Ever since she had been found by them, she had either been too weak to really pay attention, or in the middle of a life-or-death situation- or the horrible, horrible fallout from life-or-death situations.

They were almost completely different when they had nothing in particular to do, she had decided. It was probably something to do with adrenaline.

Apropos of apparently nothing at all, Sokka suddenly came tearing out of one door, screaming at the top of his lungs, covered in dust and sprinting for his life, the lemur, two badger-frogs, and approximately seventeen thousand bat-moths in hot pursuit.

The waterbender blinked, stupidly, and in the time it took her to stand up and shout " _why is he up? He shouldn't be up!"_ he had disappeared back into the bowels of the temple, adding his sister to the list of pursuers.

Perhaps her initial impressions of them had been right after all. Perhaps they were all just a bit simple.

\--

The flames licked around her, curling and billowing under her command as she moved smoothly through the kata.

It was a good feeling. Not a sense of spiritual awe, as the Avatar might have described it. It wasn't the sense of becoming _one_ with anything, it wasn't brushing the edge of eternity or anything the Sages might have wished it would be. Moving smoothly from one form to the next, loosing flame with each strike, it was simply... satisfying. Like putting something back in its proper place.

Sokka was watching her, from a bench on the edge of the courtyard. She knew without looking how he would be sat- leaning back, his left (injured) leg stretched out in front of him, the cane his sister had insisted he use propped up on the stone lip of the seat next to him. His arms folded behind his head, eyes half-lidded, so he could plausibly deny that he was looking at anything at all.

He was often there, when she practiced. Too often for it to be coincidental. Azula wasn't entirely sure why, but she knew that it would be futile to ask him.

Still, she had an audience, and so felt at least a little obligated to impress.

One hand curled upwards, the other traced a semicircle down. Sparks danced in the air and Azula brought her hands together with a crash of thunder.

And abruptly woke up three seconds later with a splitting headache, clear on the other side of the courtyard.

There was a moment of utter silence, as Azula vainly tried to work out what had happened. It was shattered by the sound of Sokka breaking out in laughter.

No. No no no, this was not supposed to happen!

She stood, strode back to the centre of the courtyard, and began again. Left hand up, right hand down, hold the energy inside for a heartbeat, then push-

There was an explosion, and she was flung backwards.

After the fourth attempt, Sokka stopped laughing. Or perhaps the constant explosions were damaging her hearing.

Left hand up, right hand-

Sokka grabbed her wrist, and stepped in front of her. He didn't even pretend to be intimidated by her murderous glare.

"Okay, that was basically the most cathartic thing I've ever seen, but yeah. You have to stop now. Pretty sure you're gonna do yourself a permanent injury."

Azula had to suppress the mad urge to claw his face off. This was _humiliating_.

"You okay? I'm gonna guess repeatedly blowing yourself up _isn't_ what you were trying to do."

She didn't answer him, and after a while, he gave up, and left her to her own devices.

She didn't try to bend lightning again. Not that day.

\--

Typical. Just _typical_. After a couple of weeks training, after determining that he had attained the minimum standard necessary to begin, Azula had told the Avatar that he was ready to begin working with fire. And as she had started to explain the actual _mechanics_ behind the process, what was the first thing he had said?

"This is wrong."

Azula tried very hard not to show how offended she was. "I have been taught firebending since I could walk. I am one of the youngest masters of the art in history. I sincerely doubt that I am _wrong_."

Aang shook his head. "No, I mean it's _wrong_ because- who taught you this?"

Father. There were teachers, of course, but Father was always there, in the background, always pointing out flaws, ways to improve, ways to be stronger, faster, always setting a new standard to conquer-

"I had tutors," she said, throat tight.

"No, I mean- where did the style come from? What was the manual you were working from?"

Ah. Azula's eyes unfocused slightly, as she recalled her rote history lessons. "Modern firebending forms stem from a unifying codex, compiled during the reign of Fire Lord Azulon, in an attempt to unify and militarise the disparate styles of the time. The driving force behind this unification was the increasing need to manage firebender regiments on a large scale, as fighting with the Earth Kingdom intensified-"

"That's it! That's where the problems start. We need to go earlier than that. We need to go to the _source_."

Azula stared at the Avatar as though he had lost his mind. "Are you saying," she tried, slowly and cautiously as though she were tiptoeing over a chasm "that we should look for instruction from the _dragons_?"

\--

After comprehensively losing the argument, Azula slunk away to more friendly areas, to lick her wounds. Eventually she found herself back at Sokka's door. Entering without knocking, she walked in on something she had been casually dreading for some time: Sokka and her mother having an animated discussion.

"-so there we were, tiny village in the middle of nowhere, no way out before sundown, and a giant Spirit monster between us and civilisation. And what does Aang do? He decides that the best plan he can come up with is to yell at the thing about how we're trying to help."

"So what did you do?"

He tried and failed to look self-deprecating. "I figured he could use my help. So I hit it with my boomerang. Then it dragged me back to the Spirit World kicking and screaming, but I like to think I helped."

"You've been to the Spirit World? What was it like?"

"Completely insanitary. There were no bathrooms _anywhere_."

"…Was that a major problem? Couldn't you have just, I don't know, gone behind a tree? Assuming there were trees."

"…Look, it wasn't so much the lack of proper sanitation, but… you know that feeling you get when you _know_ someone's watching you out of the corner of their eye, but they're pretending not to care so they can get the jump on you? On that note, hi Azula. _Everything_ in the Spirit World was giving off that vibe. And it's really hard to go when you get the feeling that the trees are staring at you."

"I see. So, how did you escape?"

Sokka shrugged. "Not really sure. Aang did his thing, I turned a corner, and instead of spooky brown swamp, I was back in the real world. Didn't stick around to get specifics. I had my own problems."

"So I have gathered."

Azula edged further into the room, and slumped into a chair.

"So, what's new in firebender town? Persuaded Aang to breathe again?"

"He wants to go chasing dragons," Azula said, dully. "We leave tomorrow. 'We' being myself, him, and Toph."

"Oh. How come?"

Azula rolled her eyes. "He wants extra credit. He'll be disappointed, I'm afraid."

Sokka blinked. "Oh?"

Ursa explained. "The dragons are all dead. Fire Lord Iroh killed the last."

"Huh. Well, that sucks. I guess these dragons weren't big on writing stuff down?"

"No opposable thumbs."

"Right, right. You told him all this?"

"It didn't seem to bother him."

"Still, look on the bright side, trip out of the Temple, seeing more of the world, getting out in the fresh air, you might even have fun."

Azula glowered at him.

\--

In two days, it will be midsummer. In two days, the moon will pass in front of the sun. For eight minutes, the sun will be entirely obscured.

Eight minutes. A lot has to be accomplished in those eight minutes.

This is our only weapon against the Fire Lord. Our one concrete advantage. A great deal of thought has gone into this. Some elements have been planned since the beginning; some were still being added up to a month ago. There's no room for improvisation, not for something this big.

Iroh is no fool. He knows _something_ is up. But he doesn't know exactly what, and he doesn't know exactly when. And he knows nothing of the eclipse. And so the advantage remains ours.

Tonight, I am about to strike the first blow. In two minutes, hostilities are, once again, officially open.


	35. Judgement

****_  
_

_Or,_

_ To My Brilliant Feat, They All Pay Heed. _

–

In the dark before dawn I make my way up the hill, towards the station. It's a small, squat building, some way into the woods, perched on the only sizeable incline for miles around. I have business here.

The rain makes the climb more arduous than it should be, and I draw my oiled cloak about my neck as I finally make it to the door.

I knock on the heavy wooden door. The rain is hammering and my hood is up, so it's unlikely that I will be recognised immediately.

A thin slat opens in the door, and a dark figure peers out at me.

"Hello? Who's there? If it's you again, Ken, I'm telling you, we _don't do local mail_. The messenger-hawks will be available to the public again when the Fire Lord-"

My blade flicks, tearing through stone and wood and steel and flesh. The deadbolt is shorn in two, and the door swings easily at my touch.

The man is dead on the floor, a hole in his throat.

That's one.

–

"I would like to point out," Sokka proclaimed, leaning imperiously on his cane, "that this is almost certainly going to be a complete waste of time. Just, you know, making my position clear here."

Azula was inclined to agree. But, still, the Avatar's mind was made up. And so, she clambered up onto the sky bison without comment, joining the already waiting Aang and Toph.

"You guys have fun," Sokka said, waving. "We'll still be here when you get back. Unless something really interesting happens."

Mother looked slightly discomfited at that, but there wasn't time to educate her on the finer points of sarcasm, because at that point, Aang declared 'Yip, yip!' (and inside, a tiny part of her immortal soul creaked and groaned under the pressure of not saying something scathing), and the bison leapt upwards, into the dawn.

–

The sun rises sluggishly, over mist and damp ground. I watch from the second-storey window, out across the clearing, at the last man as he runs- tripping and slipping in his fear and haste- down the hill, no plan in his head but survival.

He makes it almost to the treeline before an arrow strikes him dead. (And that's five.) And my assistants leave their posts, peeling away from the trees, and make their way up the hill towards me.

We have a lot to set up.

–

This place is a messenger-hawk waystation, one of the largest in the western Fire Nation. There are five such places of similar size in the Fire Nation, and tonight we have hit them all.

Eight minutes is good, but the amount of damage we can cause with it is limited. At least, unless we plan very, very carefully.

So this is step one. We cut their communications, leave them blind. Hijack their messenger-hawks for our own purposes.

Step two is to use that communication network for our own ends- cause confusion, give contradictory orders, sow misinformation wherever we can. Some of it has a specific goal- we have already succeeded in ensuring that all the ships of the Southern Raiders are docked at the same time, for example- but more of it is just to make sure that the Fire Nation's attention is focused firmly inwards.

Step three is out of my hands. All the rest of the fighting happens far away from me.

Thank Agni.

–

Azula had not forgotten the date. She just didn't know what to do about it.

She somehow doubted that there would be an opportunity to use this moment of weakness, even if she weren't due to spend the day traipsing around ancient ruins in the middle of nowhere.

That was the price she had paid, she supposed. At least it didn't seem as though _she_ would be in any danger when the eclipse arrived.

She had palmed a knife, though. Just in case.

–

I can't get to sleep, the night before the eclipse. My bones tell me to rest, but there's too much dancing around in my head, and I spend the night worrying over situations I know will be alright- we've gone over them a thousand times, planning every action down to the second- but I can't help but wonder.

And, some time after midnight, as I lie on the floor of the station (there are beds. They belonged to the men and women that worked here. I will not touch them.) I can't shake the terrible notion that somehow, some way, Iroh knows.

It's ridiculous, of course. If there's one thing I can be sure of, it's that Iroh doesn't know. He knows something is up- he's no fool. He's reinforced, dug in. Brought more firebenders to the front lines (as much as 'front lines' still exist in this war, anyway. Say he's reinforced problem areas, for the sake of accuracy).

He doesn't know.

Even he wouldn't do that, just to hide the fact that he's found out.

But the thought festers, in the way dread does, in the night.

–

"Okay," Toph said, with an air of finality. "From now on, you guys step where I step. Got it?"

It had been the fourth time that either Aang or Azula had almost been killed by unexpected spike pits, volleys of poisoned darts, or sudden boulders, and the earthbender was getting annoyed.

"Is anyone concerned that we have been in this ruin for less than an hour, and already it has tried to kill us? Repeatedly?" Azula asked, as they walked along, rather more carefully.

Aang scratched his nose.

"Sure, I guess. You can't worry about the little things, Azula."

"Are you honestly suggesting that the deathtraps are... beneath our notice?" Azula asked, incredulous.

Aang shrugged. "Generally, people trying to kill us means we're on the right track. I guess you can think of it as a positive sign!"

–

"And here we are," Azula proclaimed, finally, at the top of a quite frankly excessive flight of steps. "For the benefit of the differently-sighted, we have a carving of two dragons burning a man to death."

"Got it," Toph said, nodding.

"Is this the sort of thing you were looking for, Avatar?" Azula asked.

"Come on, let's keep moving," he said, starting out along the long causeway that stretched clear across the city, terminating at an enormous structure, at the far end, fused to the mountainside.

Azula sighed, and started to walk.

–

They crossed the long causeway, as the sun began to reach midday. Azula basked in the heat, like a lizard, head craning backwards as she walked, eyes lidded in contentment. Toph, by contrast, was starting to suffer. Shoes would have probably helped, but Azula eventually decided against mentioning that.

The view from the walkway was something to behold. The whole city was laid out beneath them, ruined walls still standing, carving the landscape into an interlocking maze of streets and shattered houses. Everything was silent, and still. Arid, too- nothing grew here, no life punctuated the ruin- the flagstones too tightly-placed for plants to grow between them. No plants meant few insects stayed long. And that, in turn, meant nothing larger prowled the dead roads.

Azula wondered, idly, what had happened here, to drive the Sun Warriors out. This had been their Capital, once, their seat of power, where- if the histories were to be believed- they cut the beating hearts from their captive enemies, and offered them up to the sun.

No war had overrun the Sun Warriors- how could it? They were the first wielders of Agni's gift, after all. All that was truly known was that, at some point, before the Fire Nation was anything more than a scattered collection of city-states, the Sun Warriors simply vanished from what records remained. It was one of the great mysteries historians loved to debate. Some said a plague overran them. Some thought they undertook a mass exodus- although where they might have gone was another question, with another thousand answers.

Azula had never been a great student of ancient history, and this was why. All that could be said with any certainty was this: the Sun Warriors were once here, and now they were gone.

–

Eventually, they came to the central building at the end of the causeway- a great tower, presumably a temple of some description, carved into the mountainside. And, for just one second, she felt the weight of history bearing down on her, as she recognised echoes of this place in the temples of the Fire Sages.

Aang rushed forward, testing the door. It refused to move.

"It's locked up!" he cried, after a fruitless moment.

It was all Azula could do not to sigh heavily.

"Toph," she said, wearily. "If you would."

After a busy moment, the door was ripped apart, and the way was clear. The Avatar, at least, looked abashed.

"Oh look," Azula observed, as she walked through the door "a sunstone. They have those in the Temples. I think this door is only supposed to open at a certain time of year." She shrugged. Archaeology had never been her strong suit.

They entered into a large chamber, lit only by the sunlight- streaming from a small, circular hole in the centre of the roof, and pouring in the open door behind them. Huge, high-ceilinged, and almost completely empty.

Toph whistled low, under her breath. "Huh. There's a lot going on under here," she commented, tapping the floor with her toe. "I think it's got something to do with-"

That was as far as she got before the Avatar clapped a hand over her mouth.

"No! This is what we came here for! You can't just _tell_ us! We've got to figure it out!"

Azula wasn't entirely certain that they did, but it was, after all, the Avatar's trip.

"Fine," Toph retorted, shoving him away. "I guess I'll go stand in the corner then."

Azula tuned out the bickering, moving forward into the room. A ring of statues, showing figures- no, one figure in various poses. On closer inspection, the statues mirrored each other- the left side was the exact same as the right.

The figures were an instruction, as one might see in a scroll to give a child- an introduction to basic forms, to be refined by a tutor. But why go to so much ceremony for this one?

"It's a dance," the Avatar said, staring at the statues.

"It's a kata," Azula corrected. "But what's so special about it?"

A grin spread across the Avatar's face. "Well, there's one way to find out, I guess!"

Azula didn't dignify that with a response. But she supposed there was no harm in trying.

She wasn't about to jump straight in, though. The movements looked simple enough, but she wasn't going to risk making a fool of herself.

She studied the statues carefully, noting everything- the way the weight shifted from high to low to high again, the sudden jab of the arms, the high punch to the low kick- paying attention.

After a long moment, as the Avatar grew visibly impatient, she nodded, and took her place.

The tile beneath her foot sank half an inch, then stopped. A glance at Aang confirmed that this was a feature, and not a sign that the building was about to collapse. She was relatively confident that Toph would have mentioned it if they were about to set off another deathtrap. Relatively.

A nod to her partner, and they moved.

The kata made more sense in motion. It was strong, quick, and very aggressive- and definitely a firebender's kata. Quick shifts from still stance to still stance, footing strong and airways unconstrained; she could see where the fire would go, with just a _hint_ of pressure.

All in all, it was a fine set of moves. If this was all they learned from the trip, and it was enough to convince the Avatar to carry on with his training, she would consider it enough.

And as they reached the end of the line of statues, there was a soft _click_ , and the rumble of stone.

"Okay, that was nothing to do with me," Toph said, from her corner, as Azula turned around.

A plinth had raised up in the centre of the room. On it rested a golden egg.

"Azula!" the Avatar hissed, as she stepped forward. "Don't touch it!"

"I wasn't-"

"Shh!" the earthbender snapped, suddenly. "Don't move, don't speak, don't make a noise! Stop breathing!"

Azula frowned, as Toph dropped to her knees, spreading her palms flat on the floor, face screwed up in concentration.

The silence was overwhelming.

But it didn't last long. On the very edge of hearing, there was something that sounded like-

"There's people up there," Toph stated, emphatically, and suddenly she was striding over to stand between Aang and Azula, and before anyone could so much as voice a concern, all three of them were suddenly catapulted upwards, riding a spear of rock, the metal grate of the window rushing up to meet them, and Azula dropped flat on the ground as it almost scraped the top of her head and the earthbender was trying to get them killed-

Except Toph ripped the metal of the grate aside like straw. And the three of them were suddenly out in the fresh air and baking sun, and Azula's knees wobbled as she stood.

There was no time to question Toph's casual defiance of the laws of nature, however. There were more... pressing concerns.

The Sun Warriors, it transpired, were not gone.

They were, however, rather angry.

–

I watched it, in the end.

You couldn't watch it with bare eyes, of course, not if you were concerned about damaging your vision, but I had procured a pair of Water Tribe snow goggles, which sufficed.

It was a peculiar sight, watching that shadow curl across the sun. Strange to just stand there, on the little balcony jutting out from the side of the waystation, watching the moment go by.

Strange to take this time, of all times, to stand still, while all across the world, I cause the deaths of thousands.

Strange. Not pleasant.

–

As the shadow of the moon fell across the courtyard, and the Sun Warriors glanced up in fear and confusion, Azula felt herself start to smile.

With a sudden rush, Azula darted forward. They were in such pathetic disarray that it was simplicity itself to reach the Chief (at least, Azula was assuming he was their chief, based on the height and complexity of his hat) and haul him forward bodily by his many necklaces.

This, at last, got his attention, and he might have retaliated, had Azula not taken that moment to press her knife against his jugular.

"Aang," she called, over her shoulder. "These people appear confused. Perhaps you could tell them who we are."

–

And then it was all over. Eight minutes pass quickly.

It was done. All our schemes, all our plans, all leading up to that moment. And then it's all gone.

The grace period is over. If we haven't done enough with those eight minutes, we lost the war today.

It might be a long time before we know it, though.

–

The Dancing Dragon, the Sun Warriors called it. As Azula saw it, the kata was only part of it- the technique was steeped in superstition and ritual- primitive things, not worth their time. Aang had insisted, though, and so she would go along with it.

And so, once again they climbed yet another interminable staircase, leading up to a bridge that spanned the twin peaks of the mountain.

They carried with them sacred fire, said to be the very first flame the dragons gave to man. Privately, Azula wondered how many times it had gone out over the years.

Finally, they reached the causeway, and turned their backs on each other. The Avatar headed right, sweating visibly from the effort of keeping the flame alive, and Azula went left, striding forward to what she now saw was a cave.

The sun was almost down as she crossed the bridge, and that made her very uneasy.

It only took a few long strides to make it to the mouth of the cave, and there she offered up the flame, as she had been instructed. After a moment, the Avatar's footsteps stopped as well.

And then there was a noise.

From the mouth of the cave there came a terrible sound- wet, deep, and disgustingly organic- and for the barest second Azula was dragged back to the morning she first found herself in the Avatar's company, driven in terror before the sounds of the sky bison.

A blast of scalding air slammed into her face, and the fire in her palm went out.

And then something huge and blue was charging towards her at speeds faster than the naked eye could follow, and Azula's brain gave up.

The dragons lived. _The dragons lived._

There was no time to wonder, no time to even question what that meant- the beasts curled around them, spinning and twisting and over the roar of the wind she heard the Avatar shout from behind her "I think they want us to dance!"

"It's a kata!" she shouted back, entirely on reflex.

But she did as she was bidden.

The form moved her along the causeway, toward Aang, who was doing the same. She stole a glance at the huge monstrosity moving alongside her, and for a bare moment wondered how exactly people had ever managed to hunt these things.

The dragons rippled and curled around them like ribbons at a festival, darting and fluttering in the sky- and how could they move like that, when they were so large?- and as she and Aang moved into the final stance, and their knuckles clicked together, the dragons breathed as one, and engulfed them in flame.

–

Fire curled around them, spinning in a thousand different colours and Azula had never been afraid of fire but she was afraid now. This was strange, and this was wrong, and it was getting closer now and _Azula you do not know what you do_ and the fire was all around her now and all she wanted to do was _look after your mother. Your brother too_ the fire was so close to them now, she could have reached out with her fingertips and _this was always the plan_ and it was _a fight you want? It's a fight you'll get!_ and the only thing left for her to do was _be good_.

And so she fell to her knees and then straight to the floor, and the fire was so close now her eyes shrivelled and dried and every breath seared her lungs and all of a sudden someone was standing over her, one foot either side of her prone form and the fire receded as the Avatar encountered his high and lonely destiny.

Azula's eyes closed, and when they opened again, she remembered nothing but the fire, and a niggling, silent feeling that she had been found wanting.

–

"So," said Toph, straightening up. "How'd it go? You guys reach enlightenment?"

Azula didn't speak.

"Well, I don't know that I'd go that far, but I feel like this was really productive! Wouldn't you say so, Azula?" the Avatar asked.

"What? Oh, yes. The kata. Very useful."

–

The letters start coming in before the sun goes down. Only a bare fraction are sent here, to me, but it's still enough to keep my assistants on their feet for the rest of the day.

I'm stuck behind a desk, attempting to cram several books' worth of information into my head, one letter at a time. Most of it good: Hakoda sends a brief, satisfied message (Assault on Southern Raiders successful. Casualties light. No survivors. Base sunk.) Some of it disheartening (indifferent progress in the Northern Earth Kingdom, General How bogged down by heavy fighting), but little of it actually bad.

I suppose I should feel pleased about that. The plan is going off with very few hitches. It's all within acceptable parameters.

Fantastic.

–

If I were to have my way, this would be the last act of the Order of the White Lotus. We would strike our blow against the Fire Lord, and disband. I have brought too much dishonour to the Order. Too much dishonour, and too much death.

We were a damn pai sho club, once. And today we cause the deaths of untold thousands. No group survives with that on its collective conscience. Not unchanged. My tenure may have opened a door that we never close again.

In the depths of winter, the Avatar crushed the blockade of the North, striking a blow for peace against aggressors. In midsummer, we put the Fire Nation and its colonies to the sword, striking at the underbelly of an invader, crippling them so we may one day have an end to this.

What will we justify in a decade? In a century?

In the end, it's not for me to decide. But it worries me; it worries me a great deal.

–

One letter I hadn't dared wait for finally arrives.

It's from the Omashu cell.

It's short, to the point, and conveys all relevant information.

Bumi is still alive. That was good news, I supposed, but it wasn't really what I had been anticipating.

Not that I was indifferent to Bumi's plight, of course. Quite the opposite. It's just that I'm fairly sure that that man cannot be killed. At least not by conventional means.

Anyway. The letter was from Bumi himself, in fact. Complete success on the Omashu front. The city is liberated, Bumi reinstated as King.

They await further instruction.

Well. I had almost dared to hope-

Oh well. There was more that required my attention.

–

All in all, it was a relief to be back at the temple, where there was enough going on to distract her from the strangeness inside her head.

"So, Aang, what'd you say this amazing firebending technique was called again?" Sokka asked, his grin threatening to take off the top of his head.

"The Dancing Dragon," Aang replied, primly.

"Uh huh. Yeah, don't know about you guys, but if I were guarding the most powerful firebending technique in the history of anything, that is _definitely_ what I would call it." He stood, pulling his arm in front of his face like a cape, shadows from the campfire dancing crazily, casting him in sharp relief. "In a world where evil runs rampant, where the Fire Lord is master of everything he sees, only one person can save the world! The young Avatar's foxtrot skills are great, but alone they won't be enough. To save the world, he must gather _the freshest grooves in history_ , from the classic Water Tribe Two-Step to rediscovering the ancient Fire Nation art of freestyle. Only then will he be powerful enough to mambo with the Fire Lord and Sozin's Quartet!"

In spite of herself, Azula started to smile.

–

I was tired. Dawn was breaking, and I had worked through the night. I had not slept since before the eclipse.

That was my only defence. The only thing that might excuse my appalling misjudgement.

I had seen the report- a status update from June, telling us that the Avatar was holed up in the Western Air Temple- and set it aside, in order to concentrate on more immediate concerns.

It niggled at my brain for half an hour, while it sat there.

It took me that long to realise just what was wrong.

The handwriting.

That report had not been from June.

That report had not been meant for me.

Oh no.


	36. All He Surveys

 

_Or,_

_ The Secrets That You Keep are at the Ready- Are You Ready? _

–

It wasn't until I was on the ship north, stowing away among sacks of grain, that I realised I'd done it again.

I'd bloody well gone and done it again. You'd think I would have learned after Kyoshi.

Piandao, you fool, are you ever going to learn how to delegate?

No. I don't think I am. I think it's just something I'm going to have to live with- that my automatic method of problem-solving is to run at it as fast as possible, and maybe hit things with a sword once I get there.

I have a very specific skill-set to work with here. I like to think I'm doing the best I can with what I've got.

–

A few days after the escapade to the city of the Sun, Azula woke to sunlight streaming in through the window.

Instead of either rising instantly, or grumbling to herself and rolling back into sleep, Azula opened her eyes, and propped her hands behind her head, looking up at the ceiling.

Her lessons with the Avatar had proceeded at an almost alarming pace, once he had been placated, and she couldn't help but approve of the weapon he was shaping up to be. He wouldn't have liked to hear it, but it was true. That boy was going to set the sky on fire, Azula would make sure of it.

All things considered, things were finally starting to go her way. Somewhere, it felt as though the tide had started to turn.

She had even managed to sleep last night.

Languidly, she rolled out of her (still disconcertingly narrow) bed, and dressed. The clothes weren't hers, of course- they were in the Earth Kingdom style, and had been graciously supplied by the waterbender. She was learning to tolerate them.

Suddenly, the mood was shattered by a frantic hammering on the door.

"Azula! Azula talk to me!"

She blinked. Something was very wrong. Sokka sounded close to hysterical.

"I'm here," she replied, and opened the door.

"Thank you," he muttered, under his breath. Azula was fairly certain she wasn't supposed to have heard that.

"What's going on," she snapped.

He swallowed, heavily, and leaned on the doorframe, gesturing for her to follow him. "We gotta go. Now. Iroh's here."

Azula swallowed, throat suddenly dry as bone.

"The Fire Lord. _Fire Lord Iroh_. Is _here_."

"That's what I said," he clarified, still gasping for breath. "Now come on, we gotta get-"

"Where's my mother?" she snapped.

"Toph's getting her, and Aang. They're gonna load onto Appa and get us outta here. Now come on, Katara's waiting for us and we've got to get to the main courtyard before his goons get there!"

–

They were too late. Azula tried to be dispassionate. Someone, after all, had to be level-headed.

The waterbender had made her stand at the fountain, of course. Judging by the bodies- at least twelve- dead, or unconscious, Azula couldn't tell from this distance- she had given a good account of herself, but, inevitably, she had been overwhelmed. Now she was held, hands behind her back, by two of the Royal Guard that had filled the courtyard.

Unconsciously, Azula placed a hand on Sokka's shoulder. It would do nobody any good if he were to go charging in now. But, although by the rise and fall of his shoulders he seemed to be growing increasingly agitated, he made no move. Instead, he glanced back at her, and nodded, curtly. Katara was in no immediate danger- if they had meant to kill her, they would already have done so.

But why would they take a hostage? And why had they remained here, clustered in the courtyard? What were they-

There was a stir among the assembled soldiers- a shift as they all moved, covering all entrances, as a figure slid down one of the long ropes hanging from the top of the cliff, and before Azula could so much as blink, Fire Lord Iroh was among them.

This time it was Sokka that held Azula back. When she felt his hand on her arm she nearly tore it off, but her attention had been diverted, and it seemed her faculties returned.

He was right. Iroh was still too far from their hiding place to risk a strike. Patience.

Even Katara's struggle against her captors stilled as Iroh's gaze swept the courtyard. The only sound in the breathless air was the measured _clack_ of the Fire Lord's stride across the flagstones.

He was getting closer.

He stopped, just before the fountain. Katara he spared the briefest of glances, before turning his gaze to the walls.

"Avatar," he intoned. "Where are you?"

Close enough. She vaulted, leaping from the balcony, fire streaming from her fingertips, an incoherent scream forced from her throat as she descended on her enemy.

He twisted even as she fell, punching forward, and a column of fire streamed towards her before she even hit the ground. She deflected the strike, barely, and hit the floor in a graceless heap.

She stood, and saw Iroh's eyes widen.

"Niece?"

She barely noticed a curt arm motion calling the soldiers off. It didn't matter what he said, or did. She was going to _kill_ him. Here and now.

She charged.

"Azula …how is it that you yet live?" he asked, as he easily rebutted her wild strikes.

Azula laughed, mirthlessly.

"Disappointed, Uncle?"

He shook his head, and manufactured an expression that on anyone else she might have called regret.

"Azula... I know I have never had your regard, but I never meant for this. Not for an instant."

Azula gave her response, which was again deflected easily.

"You killed Father. You killed Zuko. Do you think for one _instant_ it matters what you _intended_?"

"Azula, Zuko-"

She cut him off with a scream.

"You _dare_? _You dare speak his name_? Murderer, I will _kill you_!"

"Enough," he said, and Azula crumpled around his fist, the air knocked from her lungs in one crushing blow. Spots danced in front of her eyes as she was thrown to the floor. Although she could hardly breathe, still she fought to stand, but an armoured boot slammed down onto the back of her neck, pinning her to the stone.

"The Princess is clearly unwell," Iroh said, from somewhere in front of her. She shifted her head, resting her cheek on the stone, still cool from the night. She could breathe this way, at least. "Azula, we shall talk later, when we return to the Palace, but for now, child, you shall stay there. I did not come here for you."

She fumed, silently, as she heard his footsteps move silently away from her.

She could still do this. Even now. She was close enough, and he was distracted. All she needed was a chance.

"Avatar! I know you can hear me," Iroh boomed, proclaiming to the walls of the courtyard. "I know you are listening. I will not insult you, Avatar, I shall not lie. I am here to kill you, Avatar. If you face me now, we can settle this with honour. My men will not interfere."

Azula silently prayed that Aang, for once, would remember to think before acting.

As the silent seconds dragged on, it seemed her prayer had been answered.

"Avatar. You disappoint me." A shift of feet on stone indicated that Iroh had half-turned, back towards her. "Kill her."

Azula's blood froze as she heard the unmistakable _shk_ of a knife being drawn, and with a titanic effort, pushed down with her arms and raised her head a few inches from the flagstones.

Just enough to see one of the soldiers run Katara through.

" _ **NO!"**_

And the world exploded.

–

The next few seconds were chaos. The wind howled, the fire roared, the earth cracked.

But somehow, in the maelstrom of sound, Azula heard the distinct _whip_ of a rapidly approaching boomerang.

And the _clang_ as it collided with a helmeted head, accompanied by the sudden cessation of pressure on the back of her neck.

She had been given her chance. Rising drunkenly on the bucking and splitting floor, she stared around, wide-eyed.

The courtyard was barely recognisable. The wind was screaming, light was blaring, every sense was simultaneously inexorably drawn to and painfully repelled from the huge swirling mass of glowing shadow that dominated the far end of the courtyard. Rising within, Azula almost thought she could make out the figure of a boy-

" _Now!_ Kill him now! Kill him now, and it all ends!"

The Fire Lord. Screaming like a demagogue, sparks trailing from his fingers.

Unthinking, she tackled him to the ground.

He was strong. So much stronger than her- he may have been short, but every inch of him seemed to be made out of knuckle. He didn't even bother to fight back against her- just stood, as though she weren't desperately trying to keep him down, wasn't scratching and clawing at him like a wild saber-moose, and with one hard shove, sent her crashing backwards.

He turned back towards the Avatar as she leapt up again, dismissing her. She was having none of it, and hurled a blast of flame at the back of his head.

It never made it close, but it _did_ get his attention. Too late, it occurred to her that this was not a good thing.

"Azula," he hissed, turning towards her, lightning dancing in his eyes as the world collapsed around him, "you have been indulged, because I cannot find it in me to be angry with you. I know you will not believe me if I tell you I am sorry. I know you will not believe me if I tell you that I regret _nothing_ in the world as I regret what happened to your brother. I know you believe I am incapable of remorse. So perhaps instead you will believe me when I say this: if your actions today cause me to fail, if you thwart this _one chance_ we have to end this war, now and forever, _you will not be forgiven_. You have done no great wrong, not yet. Now _stand aside_."

Azula spat her response in his face, and swung her fist, aiming for nothing less than taking his head from his shoulders.

It was blocked with the merest effort, and his counterattack sent the world spinning out of orbit.

And Azula rose again, the maelstrom whipping about her, and as she watched the Fire Lord take a stance, she realised, with blistering clarity, that she was about to die.

And then something entirely unexpected happened.

A high and desperate war-cry broke out, and out of the swirling mass of bodies around them burst Sokka, eyes screaming, and before Azula could quite process what was going on, he did something that had never in the history of warfare ever been attempted, and charged full-pelt at the Fire Lord, nothing in hand but a whalebone club.

The sheer audacity of the attack was what saved him. Iroh had been preparing for an Agni-Kai, his head full of fire and lightning, and it had been many years since anyone had tried to kill him with anything as crude as a _club_. So Sokka managed three whole strides towards him before he gathered his thoughts enough to strike back.

Azula saw fire blossom around Iroh's fist, and darted forward. Sokka was lost, too far deep in rage and fear to even see his enemy coming. She was his only chance.

But her efforts were utterly in vain. As she moved to intercept the strike, in the distance the Avatar bellowed and slammed his fist. And the ground beneath their feet fractured and snapped, and the three of them were sent plunging into the abyss.

\--

They fell, spinning, hurtling down. Against the current, buffeted by wind, Azula forced her eyes to open. Sokka was mere feet in front of her, flailing as he plummeted. Unthinking, she forced her hand out, in defiance of the horrific speed, and though her arms had turned to lead and her eyes were seared, she forced herself to grab at his arm.

Snatching at his forearm, she felt a pointless stab of relief as he grabbed back.

And suddenly everything stopped as she felt a sudden pressure on her ankle, abruptly followed by an abrupt cessation of speed as she slammed into the cliff wall with her back, pain blossoming along her shoulder blades. From below her, there was a sharp _oof_ as Sokka hit the wall too.

It took a moment to realise that she was dangling by her foot. Blood rushing to her head, she blearily looked up. Iroh had grabbed her by the ankle, and with the other snatched at a sturdy root that protruded from the cliff wall.

Unthinking, she lashed out at him with her other leg, thrashing and kicking wildly. Iroh ignored her, muscles in his neck bunching with the effort of holding two people in one hand. After a moment, he grunted, and looked down at her, eyes watering with exertion.

"Let him go," he ordered "or we all die."

Sokka's grip on her wrist tightened. Azula closed her eyes.

After a long second, she opened them again.

"No," she breathed. "Just you." And with her free leg, she lashed at him with a plume of fire. Startled, he let go of her ankle.

And together they fell.

Her grip on Sokka's wrist could have moored ships. Twirling crazily in the air, she pulled him towards her, and wrapped her arms around his torso. " _Hold on_ " she ordered, the wind whipping her words away the second she spat them out. He obeyed, whether he heard her or not, clutching her close, his eyes, wide and terrified, inches from her own.

She kicked down, an explosion of fire beneath her feet. Then another. And another, each plume of flame slowing their fall by a tiny fraction of a moment, until finally it was safe to simply tumble down the last ten feet, onto a pile of rubble and shattered corpses, where they rolled, still entwined together, and finally came to a rest in the mud. There they stayed, arms locked around each other, unable to even summon the power to move. Sokka was shaking like a leaf, and Azula dimly wondered if she seemed any more composed. It wasn't likely.

Sokka spoke first, some minutes later, still shaking. "That was… that was… we're still alive."

"Oh good," Azula managed, and then passed out.


	37. Crash and Burn

_or,_

_ You Can go to Sleep at Home Tonight, if You can Get Up and Walk Away. _

–

Have you ever had one of those days when you just wish you'd stayed in bed?

I wish I still had a bed. Then I could have stayed in it.

–

“-Azula? Azula? Come on, _talk to me_. Please?”

–

I had hoped to arrive ahead of Iroh.

I had _really_ hoped to arrive ahead of Iroh.

One day I'll learn better than to hope like that. Promise.

–

“Okay. So you're not waking up. That's fine, that's fine. I'll just... sit here, then.”

–

It took me longer than I liked to get to the northernmost island in the Fire Nation, where the Western Air Temple is situated.

It turns out that supply ships full of non-essential goods travel more slowly than Royal warships. Who'd have guessed.

I'm far, far too late to meet Iroh at the Temple. But I'm not entirely useless.

I find the Avatar, making a stand in the woods, surrounded by the Royal Guard.

–

“...Maybe I should light a fire. No, that's stupid.”

–

The Royal Guard. Wonderful.

Most men, if ordered to kill a twelve-year-old boy, would hesitate. Even if he is the Avatar, they would hesitate.

Not the Royal Guard. Not for one second. Fanatics to a man.

Normally, I wouldn't put money on the men in red here. Only ten of them- no, wait, nine- up against the Avatar Himself, The Final Authority, He Who Spans The Stars, Bridge To The Spirits Made Flesh, Celestial Barman At The Last Chance Saloon, et cetera et cetera.

But not today. Today, the young boy's stance is weak, and he keeps glancing back, behind him where his bison huddles, trapped under heavy netting. He's not paying attention, and for all his power his frame is as mortal as the next man's. He stands alone- why? Where are his companions? Trapped on the bison, perhaps?

Troublesome, to be sure.

I think it's time to even the odds.

–

“Y'know, it's funny. I was still mad at you this morning. Seems so stupid now to hang on to something like that. I mean... Iroh's your _Uncle?_ Is that weird? It seems weird.”

–

The Royal Guard are loyal first, trained second. Their devotion to the Fire Lord is plain. It does not make them better fighters.

They are given the best equipment, the best training (after they have been selected, of course). The best quarters.

I have fought men ten times their measure who slept every day on the hard earth, and thought that a weighted bit of chain was the height of weapons technology.

I am not afraid of the Royal Guard.

–

“But this morning, I wasn't over it. -I don't even know why I'm telling you this, but- I just... I understood but I was still mad that you could just set me up like that, which just... seems so stupid now.”

–

Two steps forward, into the clearing. They haven't seen me yet. Good for me, bad for the Avatar.

Time to get a little conspicuous.

Two more steps, and still they haven't noticed me. I draw my sword, and break into a run.

Finally they start to turn, as I am upon the first of them.

The black edge flashes, quicker than the eye can follow, and I split him in half from shoulder to hip.

–

“...She'll be okay. She's tough. And that water-healing stuff is _amazing_. One time I took a knife to the hand- straight through, in one side and out the other, almost hit me in the eye anyway- but check it out, there's barely even a mark. If she can just patch herself up-or maybe Aang could figure out how, he's smart-

…She'll- she'll be okay.”

–

They aren't ready for that. They haven't seen what this blade can do.

I have. You couldn't call me _used_ to this blade, but it's not a surprise any more, and I can choke down the image of that awful, perfect cut somewhere dark where I can process it in the proper fashion (wake up sweating in the middle of the night with the sight of flesh and bone and guts burned into my retinas. You can't beat the classics), and press on.

–

“...So... you're Iroh's niece? That would make you, what, a Princess? …That's gonna make things kinda …weird. I guess I can see why you wouldn't wanna bring that up, though.”

–

Three left before they start to run. Three left before the Avatar stops me from following them.

The intent is noble, but I will not see him make this decision uninformed. “They will be back. With more men.”

He doesn't care. I can see that clearly, and he just gestures wordlessly towards his trapped bison, still struggling under weighted and heavy nets. And yes, now I see figures struggling in the saddle.

It's good quality rope, I note, as my sword parts it like mist. They must have made these nets specially, and long in advance.

As the bison shakes itself free, the Lady Ursa and a small girl sit up, pushing the remains of the nets aside. Just them.

That's... not consistent with my information. We're missing a few faces.

“Hey,” the girl- and finally I remember the report on the Avatar's earthbending master, and I have a face to the name _Beifong_ (younger than I expected. Far younger)- cries out in my general direction. “You know first aid?”

What a fantastically worrying question.

–

“I mean... if that'd come up first time we met, you bet I'd have suggested we leave you behind.

“And... I'd have been wrong. You're alright. Kinda stupid, but alright.”

–

I am no physician, but I will do what I can.

First examination reveals that the girl is not dead. Unconscious, but not dead. Good start. Second impression- she's lost a lot of blood. Stab wound to the gut.

Not good. Not good at all. Could mean any number of things, depending on what's ruptured. And I'm not qualified to deal with any of them. So what do I do? I have basic supplies. Clean the wound, sew her up, and give her a place to rest? And a prayer that that will be enough?

And if it isn't, will you hold her hand in the dark, too? Is this all you can do?

–

“So... I guess I'm trying to say thanks. For not dropping me. Or, well, falling with me, I guess. That works too.”

–

As I worked, the Beifong girl shakily, haltingly explained the details.

The Princess and the water tribe boy fell with the Fire Lord. Only the Fire Lord rose again.

Focus on what you can deal with, Piandao. What's two more dead children anyway?

There's something of an argument going on around me. Well. Almost an argument, anyway.

The Lady Ursa is insisting we go back for her daughter. The Avatar wants to agree with her. He doesn't, but he wants to.

He doesn't want to make an enemy of the Lady Ursa. Understandable. Nor does he want to abandon the hope that his two friends might still live. Also understandable.

But there is a definite chance that the waterbender _will_ die, unless we take her to a healer. And every second worsens her chances.

This, I can deal with. I can be the bad guy in this situation. They won't like me for it, but they might just listen. And it might just keep one more person alive.

“Avatar.” I lower my voice. Shouting would help nobody. “If you want to look for them, I will help you as best I can. But I am not a healer. I cannot tell whether your friend will live or die. If you will take my advice, I suggest we take her to somebody who would know. As quickly as possible.”

–

Blearily, she opened her eyes. A vague shape in blue and brown swam before her.

“Okay, now how many fingers am I holding up?”

–

He makes the right choice. It pains him, but he makes the right choice.

And so we fly south, into the dark.


	38. Hit the Floor

_Or,_

_So I Will Rise Like the Ashes From a Building as it Burns._

–

The dawn was sluggish, cold, and foggy. Light took a long time to reach the bottom of the ravine, and by the time it did it was second-hand and lukewarm at best, sifted through a thick canopy of mist and trees.

"Okay, how many fingers am I holding up?"

Azula sat up with a groan, clutching at her head as Sokka scrambled back to make room for her. Everything hurt, and what didn't hurt was numb and cold.

With a fleeting rush of effort, she pushed herself to her feet.

Iroh. All her plans, all her schemes, every sacrifice she had made, everything she had snatched back from him, and it _hadn't been enough_. He simply walked back into her life, and tore it all away.

She had been so sure. So sure that finally, she had found a place to stand. Ground from which to fight back. A way to stop running. She should have known better.

But perhaps-

Azula scanned the sky, squinting upwards into the mist. Surely the Avatar would soon-

“They left,” Sokka said, abruptly, eyes downcast. “Pretty soon after we fell. Flew off south.”

-oh.

There didn't seem to be anything to say to that.

–

He hadn't slept. That much was obvious. Bags hung under his eyes, every time he blinked it took him longer to open his eyes again, and he was even more slouched than usual. It was draining just to watch him.

He wouldn't last. Not an insult, but- who could? Who could keep going, after all this? He was going to need help, and he was going to look to her.

The thought was almost horrifying.

She saw him turn to face her, in her mind's eye. Saw the inevitable question curling his lips. _What now? What's the plan?_

He was going to ask.

And she wouldn't have an answer.

She couldn't even begin to think. What were they going to do? ...Something, obviously **.**

But...

Kill Iroh.

_Kill Iroh._

It wasn't the mantra it had been. The fire was gone from the pit of her stomach. And she couldn't muster up the energy to care.

And what would Sokka do, then? When he asked, and she didn't answer? How would he react to that?

It looked as though she was about to find out, as Sokka appeared back in view, affecting a slope that very nearly masked his limp.

He turned towards her, and there it was, the look. _What now? What do we do?_

And suddenly he blinked, and set his shoulders, peering upwards, towards the treeline. "Okay," he said, abruptly. "We're gonna be following the river 'til we hit the coast. If I remember right, there's a few fishing villages around the south coast, we can get a boat there to the mainland, right? I mean, they do have, ferries and stuff? Right? But, uh... guessing all the, you know, conspicuous blue clothes are kind of a giveaway, huh." He stroked his chin, apparently deep in thought.

"Okay," he said, punching his open palm with sudden determination. "You get some rest, and I'll..." he gestured back towards the cliff, and Azula noticed suddenly that they hadn't been the only ones to fall. Among the rubble were occasional flashes of red.

For a long moment, Sokka froze, arm still outstretched, and the shadow of something terrible crawled across his face. Then he shivered, and shook his head. “Okay. I'm just gonna go check out what we can get from... you know... those guys.”

He talked as he worked, a steady mutter of running commentary that Azula wasn't sure she was supposed to hear.

“ ...Okay, that's not too- oh. Oh that's gross. Okay, not wearing that, _ever_. How about the- yeah, they're okay, though. Kinda big. Still, s'better than kinda small, huh? Huh. Okay, so now we just need- a _ha_!” He pulled a cloak from the wreckage, miraculously undamaged, with great aplomb. “One tent.” He considered this for a while. “Guess I'd better go get another one, huh.”

Eventually, he had amassed an entire costume. None of it fitted perfectly, and he would never pass as a soldier under any kind of scrutiny, but at least nobody would instantly look at him and see Water Tribe.

“The club's not too much of a giveaway, is it? Actually, yeah. I guess it is.”

–

“How can every single spear be broken? Why is this happening? Why does the universe _hate me_?”

–

“I know how to use a spear! I'm _good_ with a spear! One time I killed a bull leopard-seal with a spear! _How can there be no spears_!?” For a moment it looked as though he was about to start to cry, but then he breathed deep, and went still. “Okay. Fine. Swords are okay, I guess. You hold one end and hit people with the other. It's really just a question of which end's which. It's just a big machete anyway.”

–

"Okay, first stop, river. If we can find that, we can get out of here. Come on, we'd better get moving."

Azula followed. What else could she do?

–

The bison flies due south, on my advice. Due south puts the greatest expanse of water between us and Iroh possible while still taking us toward civilisation. The waterbender tried to move, during the flight, but was persuaded to take some herbs to make her sleep- one of the few medical items I was carrying.

It is an unpleasant journey, a full night and day spent over water. I try not to sleep.

I fear I have made an enemy of the Lady Ursa.

I mean, I don't think she's going to try to slit my throat in my sleep, but I haven't made it to almost-forty-three by taking unnecessary risks. Honest.

 –

A mountain scowls up at us, a white-capped island in a sea of pines. Toward the flatlands, half-covered by the edge of the forest, a collection of firelights indicates a town, and I suggest we make our descent.

It's strange, to look at the land from this angle. Useful, though.

I take charge before anyone else can take the opportunity, directing the Avatar to stay and conceal the bison. I gather the waterbender into my arms as gently as I can, and clamber (slightly awkwardly, but it's not as though I have much experience with this sort of thing) down off the tail of the beast. The earthbender moves to follow, and I let her.

"We will find a healer," I tell the Lady Ursa and the Avatar, "and come for you as soon as we can." I'm about to turn to leave, when a thought hits me. It's slightly awkward, trying to reach into my pack without jostling the unconscious waterbender, but I've shouldered heavier people. I manage, and throw the Avatar a hat.

He barely catches it, and stares at it like I just handed him a dead rat.

He'll figure it out, I'm sure.

–

Night is drawing in, as we hit a dirt track into the village. The earthbender at my side is quiet, her face set in a frown of concentration. I see no reason to break it, and concentrate on walking.

The village, when we come to it, is small and ordered. I don't have the patience for finer details, and bear down on the first person I see- a stall vendor, closing up his business for the evening.

"Good evening," I introduce myself, and he almost leaps out of his skin. "There will be time for pleasantries later. Does this village have an apothecary?"

He blinks heavily, and gibbers a little. I don't have time for this, and am about to start being rude, when my companion intervenes.

"Hey!" she barks, yanking him down by his lapels until they're eye to (I suddenly notice) unseeing eye. "He asked you a question! You guys got a medicine man? A herbalist? Somebody who knows what a skeleton looks like? It's okay if you don't wanna answer, as long as from now on you don't wanna-"

"The inn!" the man cries, finding his voice at last. "The innkeeper's a healer!"

"Thank you," I tell him, as the earthbender releases him, and we are on our way, moving in the direction he pointed out.

"It's all how you ask people," she says, with not a little pride.

 

– 

The innkeeper answers her door quickly. I suppose she must be used to being woken after dark.

She would have been tall, in her youth. She stands bent almost double now, but her arms are long, and held tucked almost under her chin. Her fingers are long, and curled, twined together and resting upon the head of a walking cane. Almost-closed eyes squint upwards at us, and when she sees us her mouth splits apart in a wide smile.

"Good evening, travellers, welcome to-" she takes a little while to register just what I am carrying, and when she does, her face sets. "Oh. One of _those_ sorts of visitors. Well, bring her in," she says, briskly. I comply.

We're whisked into a dining area, rather than a dedicated medical bay. This does not fill me with confidence. Sure, she may be healer enough to set bones, or cure a cold. I'm becoming increasingly concerned about her ability to help us.

She places a hand over the girl's forehead, and her lips purse.

“She's lost a lot of blood.” Well, yes. She's wearing most of it. As diagnoses go, it doesn't fill me with confidence. “Best set her on the table, quickly now.” Still, it's not as though we're flush with options.

Although...

Something's not quite right.

She hasn't gone to fetch any kind of equipment. She doesn't seem to be in a rush to, either. She diagnosed the waterbender by touching a hand to her forehead- yes, it wasn't a surprising diagnosis, but it's the action that was important- and, though her eyes are grey and faded with age, there's still a suggestion of...

"I apologise," I say, making a show of attempting politeness, "I should have asked your name."

“...Hama,” she answers, guardedly, after a seconds' pause, and everything clicks into place.

Water Tribe. The woman is Water Tribe. All the way out here. Well. That changes things a bit.

"Hama. A pleasure. My name is Piandao." A gamble, but hopefully a small one.

"Piandao?" she repeats, brows raised. "I remember that name." She smiles to herself. "Well, well. The Defector under my roof, in the company of Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes. Isn't that a thing." She laughs, and with one hand reaches behind her. A plume of clear water snakes through from the kitchen, and coils around her wrist like a snake. "Well, you share your secret, I suppose I can share mine. Makes this next bit easier, in any case. I was trying to think of a way to make you sit outside while I worked."

– 

The waterbender will live, although it may be a while before she is well enough to travel. Hama has graciously agreed to allow us room and board, and has been persuaded to take payment for it.

The Avatar finally looks as though all the sleep he's been missing has caught up with him. The Lady Ursa has retired already. The earthbender has been sitting in a large chair by the fire for the past twenty minutes. I think she may have already fallen asleep.

Hama catches my eye. She nods askance at me, and I follow her outside.

“You said she was stabbed?” she asks, low and serious. I nod. “Hmm. Well, she was very lucky, then.”

That gets my attention. “Oh?”

She nods, and her voice takes on a conspiratorial air. “Oh yes. One inch lower, it'd have been in her stomach. As it is, the worst hurt was from the blood loss.”

Is it like a member of the Royal Guard to miss a stationary target? No. As much as I'm of the opinion that they're a group of pompous fools that can't get over the fact that they get to wear the fancy helmets like that means something and spend more time with their lips stuck to Iroh's backside than they do in the training ring, no. Well. Maybe she was just lucky. Either way, I'm not likely to ever know.

So. We have a place to stay, at least for the moment. The children look as though they need it, too. We can trust Hama, I think. At least not to give us away. If I can find a way to contact the Order, I can afford to stay here for a little while.

Long enough, I hope, to answer the big question:

What next?


	39. Sound and Fury

_Or,_

_For the Night is Dark and Full of Terrors._

–

The trees were burning.

Fire snapped and spat, belching thick black smoke into the canopy, withering the leaves and sending them spiralling into the air as hazy red flames spanned the space between the branches. In the distance, something was screaming, something was crying, just at the edge of her hearing, just at the point where the skull met the spine.

She had never been afraid of fire but she couldn't stop herself taking three halting steps backwards and suddenly her back hit something solid and she turned around.

Zuko was in front of her, smiling, holding out his hand and something was terribly wrong with her throat but she couldn't stop herself stretching out her arm.

Above, carving through the smoke and fire and burning woods, a roll of thunder rattled across the sky, and lightning split the world in two.  
And Zuko's face changed so suddenly.

And her fingers curled.

And lightning punched through his heart and fire curled around him and ripped him and peeled the skin from his bones and somehow his eyes were the last to burn but by the end it didn't look like Zuko any more.

– 

Azula woke, choking down a scream.

Her eyes opened into darkness, and for an awful second she registered nothing but darkness and heat and stale air and sweat, and she thought she was back in the cave, that everything after had been a long dream that she had finally woken from.

A series of deep, shuddering breaths brought her heart back under control, and she noticed the soft red glow of the walls. Walls that proved to be two large cloaks inexpertly tied together and draped over a low branch to make a rough parody of a tent. Outside, the sun was just beginning to rise.

The jungle. The cliff. She hadn't dreamt any of it after all. She didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

She flopped back, running a hand through tangled and greasy hair. There didn't seem to be much point either way. If she was going to start wishing away portions of her life, she should probably go back a lot further than the cave.

–

The dawn broke, nudging me through the curtains.

The benefits of staying in an inn. I actually got a bed to sleep in last night.

Upon entering the main hall, I am struck by the sudden revelation that I was probably the only person to actually properly sleep last night. The earthbender is picking listlessly at a plate of eggs. The Avatar is nowhere to be seen. And the Lady Ursa...

“Master Piandao,” a voice cuts across my thoughts from somewhere behind me, just a harmonic shy of murder. “A word.”

–

The morning was still and warm and, above everything, quiet. Not silent- overhead birds chittered, insects buzzed, and things scuttled in the undergrowth- but it all seemed far away and somehow false, as though a heavy curtain had been dropped between her and the world.

She was standing in a small clearing, in sight of a river- _the_ river, she remembered, belatedly, the river that had been their destination yesterday. A few casual steps forward, and her foot knocked against a stone- a ring of stones. A firepit she didn't remember lighting.

There was only one tent. Something about that seemed odd, somehow.

-There. A small patch of flattened grass. Something (someone) had laid there. Probably most, or all, of the night. Well that explained that then.

Someone was missing.

– 

I followed the Lady Ursa out into the garden in as respectful a silence as I could manage. She clearly had something in mind, and I didn't want to break her concentration.

She was agitated, that much was clear. I took up a place near the door (hovering near the most convenient exit, although in a pinch I could probably clear the garden walls. Just in case.) I wondered, vaguely, just how long she had been stewing.

She twitched as though she wanted to start to pace, but her head flicked around, and she stared me in the eyes.

“So. _Master_. What, if I may be permitted to ask, were you going to have us do next?” Sarcasm masquerading as politeness. Not a good sign.

I could feel my hackles rising, but I did my best to quell the rising irritation I was feeling. It would achieve nothing to start a fight.

Unfortunately, the Lady Ursa didn't seem to agree. “You are, after all, clearly in charge. Who would you have us abandon next?”

I took a moment to breathe, and to allow her to do the same. I tried for diplomacy. “My Lady, I understand-”

“You understand _nothing!_ ” she snaps, eyes shining and fury propelling her towards me, teeth bared and hands balling into fists. “You stand there, offering nothing but apologies and lies and false promises, and you _dare_ tell me you _understand_? I watched her fall! Do you understand that, Master? _I watched my children die!_ ”

“And what would you have had us do?” I can't help but retort. “Iroh's men were combing the woods, another life was hanging in the balance, and what would you have done?” _Would you have looked for a corpse_? almost forces it's way out of my throat, and I barely stop myself from saying it. For a moment, I am surprised once again by my own capacity for cruelty.

“Iroh lived!” she snaps. “Iroh fell with her!” In her eyes I can see desperation, clutching at anything that might give her some kind of hope. I can feel the brief stab of fury in my head drain away, and even as she gets angrier I feel my shame at provoking her growing. She takes a step in my direction and - _she's armed_.

The observation tears through my brain before I can blink. A knife, large, Water Tribe make, probably whalebone, hangs not-quite-casually at her hip, her hand too close to it to have fallen naturally.

That changes everything. She looks in half a mind to use it and I don't know how good she is with a blade but I know enough not to underestimate anyone like this. She's gripped by the kind of anger that overrides everything up to and including death.

My hand twitches towards my sword entirely on reflex as I feel the wind stir the hairs on the back of my neck. My heartbeat is loud in my ears, and the Lady Ursa's hand nudges the hilt of the knife.

All of a sudden the door behind me exploded outwards, and the wind roared as the Avatar sprang between us, interrupting our frank exchange of ideas. His brow furrowed as he glared at us both in turn, four-foot-two of compressed diplomatic anger.

“You,” he snapped, settling on me first and pointing a finger so severely it almost went up my nose, “need to back off. What do you think you're _doing_? You put that sword down _right now_ or I will take it off you.”

His tone was so strangely reminiscent of my old Drill Sergeant's that my hand was unbuckling my sword from my back without consulting my brain first. Before the scabbard hit the floor, he was spinning on his heel, and he turned on Ursa, glaring upward up at her.

“And _you_! Put that knife down! Put it down _right this minute_!” Shock is one way to dispel anger, and here it seemed to work. She blinked heavily, and relaxed her hands, deliberately.

“ _Right_ ,” he said, with a sigh. “It's... it's been a rough couple of days,” he said, voice tightening slightly, and I finally found the time to remember that the boy in front of me had just lost two friends. “But this isn't the answer. We can't start tearing into each other or we've already lost, okay. Besides,” and for the first time in the conversation he looked small, “if you're gonna blame anyone, you should blame me.”

I didn't understand what he was referring to, but it looked as though Ursa did. She shook her head sadly, though, and a small part of me was pleased that she was at least discerning with her anger, and not about to take it out on the Avatar.

“Look,” he finishes, small and out of breath. “I'll be around. Katara's gonna need a couple of days rest anyway. We'll talk later. Just... don't fight, okay? Please? Good. Right now there's someone I need to see.”

He weaved off, until he almost tripped over the diminutive earthbender, who had presumably followed to see what all the fuss was about.

“Toph!” he exclaimed, sleepily. “You gotta help me! _I haven't slept in days_.”  
She considered him thoughtfully for a few seconds, before extending one finger and pushing him hard right in the centre of his forehead. He toppled like a felled pine. I'm half convinced he was asleep before he hit the ground.

Well, it would probably do him good.

Before I turn to leave, the Lady Ursa lays a hand on my shoulder.

“The Avatar is right,” she murmurs, low enough that the earthbender cannot overhear. “This is no time for us to stand divided. But if I find out that there was a _chance_ my daughter lived, and your actions took that chance away? I will _find_ you. When everything is over, I will _find you._ ”

I let her make her threats.

The chances that I was going to live to see the end of this were never good, anyway.

–

“Okay,” Sokka's voice burst from over her shoulder, and she turned around to see him marching back into view, drawn sword in hand and dozens of tiny cuts all over his face, apparently talking to the clearing at large, “so it turns out that a sword is _not_ exactly like a machete. It's way, _way_ harder to shave with.”

Ah. There he was.

–

It's a fine summer's morning, and ideally I would like to spend it in the town. I do not know this place, and it would be sensible to scout the area. If we are where I think we are, there should be a White Lotus outpost in town somewhere. It would be useful to touch base.

However the... altercation with the Lady Ursa, no matter how bloodlessly it ended, has convinced me it might be sensible to stay out of sight, just for a little while. To allow everyone to cool down. And, if I'm honest, to allow the Avatar time to wake up again. Just in case.

I spend the rest of the day in fitful meditation. I'm not sure what it is- perhaps it's the fight with the Lady Ursa, perhaps it's Hama and her heritage, but something about this place is dredging up old memories, and the more I try to push them aside the more insistently they intrude, like picking at a scab.

–

_The snow crunched under every footstep, packed down by the men in front. Above, the sky spilt and spilled a thousand unnatural colours, the mile-high curtains of light flowing and flickering above us._

_Some of the old men thought it was a sign. This is not our land, and the Spirits do not want us here. I'm not such a fool, though, and paid little attention to the muttering of cowards, shying at imagined warnings from the Spirits. We had more pressing concerns._

_Our column became separated from the Expeditionary Force five days ago. We were ambushed on open ground- even with as few waterbenders as they had, the barbarians were still a threat, hiding under the snow until we were almost on top of them, scattering the van and sending the rear into full retreat. We had been a company of one hundred foot soldiers, near the front of the column. We numbered twenty-five, now._

_And the wolves were shadowing us, waiting for the night to fall._

_They wouldn't be waiting for long. It was summer back home. Perhaps they thought this would help us in the assault. If so, they were wrong. The night falls quickly in this Agni-forsaken land, and lasts a long, long time._

_Most of the men had scavenged furs from the few tribesmen that had fallen to us, blending in to the landscape a little better. I went without._

_My palms itched._

– 

They followed the river, where they could. There was no path, so more than once they were forced into the undergrowth, where roots and tangled bushes snapped at her feet, conspiring to trip her.

She almost fell more than once.

– 

_My temperament worsened as the shadows grew longer. They were out there, our craven hunters, but they wouldn't dare fight us, even at a fourth of our full strength, until they had all advantages on their side._

_We made camp, burning what detritus we could, creating a ring of small fires guarding a central pit. We didn't even bother with the pretence of setting up tents. Snow makes for a poor barrier, but we set up a stockade as best we could. And then there was nothing to do but wait._

_And wait. As the sun went down, a few men passed around the evening meal- dried hunks of penguin-otter. It was possibly the most vile thing I had ever eaten, and did little to allay my mood._

_Finally, night fell._

–

He talked almost constantly, a high-speed muttering that she wasn't sure was directed at her, or anyone more close at hand than the Spirits themselves.

She couldn't work up the energy to follow what he was saying, so she didn't try.

– 

_My sword was in my hand the second I heard it._

_The night was cold, but clear, free of wind or snow, the sky above as placid and smooth as a mirror. A good night. The moon was with us, picking out every detail in sharp relief, and I couldn't hold back a smile. Everything was perfect._

_If you weren't listening for it, you'd have missed it. A soft whistling noise, almost indistinguishable from the cry of a bird. Almost._

_We were ready for them._

_A flurry of javelins burst from the dark, but we had been watching for them (the savages hadn't learned any new tricks, it seemed). Mere yards away, a cluster of dark shapes burst from the snowline, a ragged line that charged our makeshift fortifications._

_I closed my eyes just as our few firebenders went to work, and the ring of fires jumped and blazed, suddenly may times the height of a man. Even through closed lids, the fire burnt a glowing orange. But when I opened them, I could still see. Our opponents were blinded and confused, their charge stalled._

_With a roar, we were upon them._

–

The sun dipped below the horizon- early in the day, for summer, but then they were at the bottom of a canyon, so the horizon was higher than it would otherwise have been.

The dark grew cloying, and it was hard to see where to put her feet, so he relented, and made to set up camp at the first clear spot.

– 

_The mêlée was chaotic, all noise and heat and blades lunging out of the darkness and the stench of burning hair. The south breeds hardy men, large and brutish, and their weapons are of the same mould- spear and knife, club and machete. Tools for hacking and breaking._

_The dance of the sword is an alien art to them. I did my best to instruct._

_They didn't have a plan for retreat. Arrogant of them. It cost them- they lacked discipline, each warrior hunting for glory, in competition against his fellows almost as much as at war with us, and we punished them for it._

_But that fight was the first time I saw a man truly blood-drunk. He was a giant, even among the barbarians- a great tiger-ox of a man, neck as thick as a man's waist. He tore through our line, a whirlwind of blood and bone and steel and fire. Three times I saw him take a mortal wound, and three times he shrugged it off, momentum carrying him forward, lightning in his eyes and foam on his lips._

_I placed myself between his charge and my brothers. I don't know if he accepted the challenge, or if he just saw another target. Or if he even saw me at all._

_I will bear the scar he gave me for the rest of my life, but even a berserker has to take notice when he is relieved of his head._

– 

She picked listlessly at a fish until it grew cold, staring into the fire until he announced that he would take the first watch. He nodded at her as she stumbled towards the tent, and, perhaps, sleep.

–

_Our victory over the warband was a turning-point. We retained control of the area long enough for the rest of the Expeditionary Force to inflict significant casualties on the Southern Water Tribes. It was also the tipping point that persuaded the War Council that land invasion of the Southern Water Tribe was not feasible, leading to the formation of the Southern Raiders._

_For my small part in the battle, I received a medal, a promotion, and a posting to the Southern Earth Kingdom. It was one of the proudest moments of my life._

– 

The trees were burning.


	40. Never Enough

_or,_

_ You'd Be Too, if Your Schemes Like Your Dreams Done Fell Through. _

–

The dawn brings clarity.

The waterbender is theoretically well enough to travel. However, there is no immediate need to do so, and I believe that she and the rest of the Avatar's group sorely need a few days' rest. None of them have been unaffected by the events of the past few days, and while it's not a thing that a temporary reprieve can solve, I don't think that it can hurt. Especially when the alternative is forcing a march on into Agni-knows-what.

It has not escaped my notice that my thoughts have turned to staying with them. At least for the present.

I suppose I might as well. If they will have me. At the very least I might provide them with some small amount of protection, should Iroh come knocking.

 –

Any vague plans I had for the morning are rearranged the second I make my way downstairs, and into the common room, and see who is already occupying the breakfast table.

The waterbender (Katara. Her name is Katara). She looks... much as I suspected she might.

Death hollows the eyes and sinks the cheeks. Wrung-out and run down, I doubt she has even registered my presence. I back out of the room, quietly, and almost bump into the Avatar, hovering in the doorway.

I nod to him, briefly, although he barely spares me a glance, and make my way towards the front door. I somehow doubt my presence here will help anyone. Let them help each other.

I have work to be getting on with.

–

It's the kind of heat that you breathe in and it dries your throat down to your lungs. There's not a cloud in the sky, not the merest hint of a breeze, and the sun hasn't even climbed to midday yet but people are already dodging from shadow to shadow (with the occasional exception of the few firebenders on patrol, part of the local militia, smugly immune to the perils of eyeball-shrivelling sunshine), and it's even odds that the streets will be deserted from midday to late afternoon and I am now quite definitely certain that somebody is following me.

I amble into the market square, as unconcerned as can be, and wait patiently for the Bei Fong girl to catch up.

Toph Bei Fong. I had done a little reading up on her since she had become part of the Avatar's group. Not a great deal, but then there wasn't a great deal on record about her. The only daughter of the Gaoling Bei Fongs, notorious collaborators who had done well out of the occupation. She herself was rarely seen, kept housebound. Twelve years old. Apparently had some minor talent as an earthbender, but not trained beyond the very basics. Blind as a wolfbat.

That last point was starting to stick in my brain a bit. The penultimate one seemed a bit incongruous, as well. The anti-penultimate, I was trying quite hard not to think about, just in case it depressed me again.

Eventually, she arrived at my elbow, as nonchalant as though we had walked from the inn together.

“You're all the way out here,” she accused, as I bought an apple from a stall.

“Yes,” I replied. There didn't seem any point in denying it. “Good morning.”

“Huh.” She paused, for a long moment. Then she shrugged, as though she had learned something of no consequence. “I was wondering.”

Understanding crept over me. Of course. Well, I suppose I am happy to be a distraction.

“Would you like to come with me? I was going to meet with a friend.”

She shrugged again, just a fraction too nonchalant to be genuine. “Sure, whatever.”

–

“Okay! I guess we've made pretty good progress today, so...” Sokka's eyes darted around, as if half-sure the trees around them were just waiting for him to show signs of weakness “...find a place to stop?”

“Hn,” Azula grunted, blankly.

“...Was that a yes? …I'm just gonna assume that was a yes.”

Azula didn't dignify that with a response, dragging her feet over to a marginally more comfortable-looking patch of ground, and dropping onto it.

“You remember the conversations we used to have?” Sokka sighed, wistfully. “You know, the ones where I said words, and then _you_ said words, and nobody stared off blankly into the distance and left the other person hanging, talking to themselves? I miss those days.”

“Hn.”

“...Fine. Fine. I'll be back in a second. Just gonna, you know. Look around.”

–

“So,” the earthbender piped up, at my elbow, as we moved through the market, “where are we going?”

“A bar, probably.”

She snorted, amused. “Probably?”

“Yes. I assume there is one nearby.” There's something just slightly _off_ about the day, if I can just-

“You have no idea who this guy you're supposed to meet is, do you.”

“What could possibly make you think that?” Just something in the way people are moving. It's not a happy crowd that has gathered at this market. Not the instant ink-drop of bad news, just... general unease. It's making my hair tingle, and that's never a good sign.

“What's his name?”

“Lee,” I said, absently.

“You're the worst liar I've ever met,” she declared, with an air of authority.

“That's quite rude of you to say so.”

I know I'm supposed to be a bit more subtle, and ideally not reveal the existence of the Order to outsiders if at all possible, but I'm not, for two very simple reasons. Firstly, the girl is a companion of the Avatar, and as such deserves frankness more than most, and, secondly, Agni help me but I don't have the strength for it right now. I'm bone-tired, and the last thing I want to be worried with is the proper codes and procedures for letting the uninitiated find out about Order business.

Jeong-Jeong would probably have a heart attack if he found out, but frankly he could do with one, and if anybody has the authority to overrule the code book, it's me, Acting Damn Grand Damn Lotus Piandao.

–

The bar was a dismal, flat-roofed affair, small windows and tables that looked slightly tacky to the touch. The sort of place where the clientèle can't even work up the energy to sneer at you as you walk in. The earthbender looks as though she has stepped in something unpleasant. She probably has.

These sorts of places are staple meeting-places for the Order. Agni knows why; perhaps some long-forgotten Grand Lotus with a flair for the dramatic set it in stone once. But whatever the origin, this is the way it tends to go. The pai-sho table in the corner, wizened master inevitably waiting-

Or not, in this case. Well, I suppose he can't sit there all the time. A man needs to eat, after all.

I ambled over to the barman, who seemed locked in a perpetual loop of wiping a glass clean with a filthy rag, not noticing that the grime he was so engaged in removing was in fact being distributed in the first place by his cloth, and nodded over to the pai sho table.

“Afternoon,” I begin, with something I hope is an easy smile. “Tell me, you wouldn't happen to know the name of the person who usually sits at the pai sho table, would you? They beat me quite soundly last time I was passing through this way, and I was rather hoping for a rematch.”

He blinked, heavily, and I was forced to endure the sight of a slow drop of sweat rolling down the side of his long nose.

“You'd be wanting Old Lady Cho, I reckon. She's not that good at pai sho. She's alright, I s'pose.”

Wonderful. Perhaps we can speed this up a little.

“Will she be here tonight? I'm only in town for the evening, I'm afraid.”

He shrugged. “Don't rightly know. Not seen her in” his brows knitted, and across the room, out of the corner of my eye, I see the earthbender's head twitch, ever so slightly “...bout three weeks, now.” This revelation didn't mean much to me, but it evidently meant something to him, judging by the shadow that crossed his face. “Tell you what, I'll give you her address, if it please you, and you can go check up on her. Perhaps it's nothing, but she don't have family round here no more. Nobody to notice if she up and vanished. If you take my meaning,” he concluded, with a foreboding air. I didn't take his meaning, but I had the disquieting feeling that I was going to.

–

We step back out, away from the sweaty gloom of the bar, and into the baking sunshine of the afternoon. A thought strikes me. The earthbender is not wearing shoes. I look down.

“How're the feet?”

She nods, academically. “Kinda warm. It's pretty uncomfortable,” she says, with an air of disinterest.

Well, if she's not going to put shoes on, I suppose it isn't any of my business.

–

Sokka stared at her, critically.

“You've been sleeping, right?”

“I'm fine,” she snapped, turning away from him.

“That's not what I asked. Your eyes look kinda bloodshot, that's all.” He waited, apparently for a response, for several seconds, before continuing, with an air of defeat. “So you _have_ been sleeping, right? Sleep's important.”

“Of course.”

–

The sun is starting to set by the time we reach the house, long shadows creeping up the walls. The neighbourhood has given way to narrow terraced streets, and small, cramped houses.

It is one of these houses that Cho apparently calls home.

Well. Called.

Toph places a hand on the wall and gestures for my silence, jaw set in studious concentration. After a moment, she declares that there's nobody home.

“And for a while, I'd reckon,” she says, grimly. I still haven't established quite how she's doing what she does, but I don't see any reason to disbelieve her.

The door swings open at a touch. Not a good sign. No sign of anything out of the ordinary indoors. It looks like the sort of house you might expect an old woman living alone to keep. Aside from the layer of dust.

It appears that Old Lady Cho has not been here for some time.

Troubling.

–

Azula stared with furrowed brow at her companion, as he tended to the fire.

He was getting to her.

Enough. She was just going to _ask_ him.

She cleared her throat.

“Sokka.”

“Hmm?” he responded, not looking up.

“What do you want?”

“Huh?”

Azula shook her head.

“What is it you want?”

Sokka blinked.

“...These fish not to burn?”

“That's not what I meant.”

“...Then... I don't know, a better pair of boots? A proper boat of my own? To see my family again? To bring the wonders of indoor plumbing to the Water Tribes? A nice steak? Come on, Azula, you're not giving me a lot to work with here.”

“...Never mind,” she said, abruptly. “It was a stupid question. Forget it.”

He held her gaze for a few moments.

“'Kay,” he replied, and turned the fish over on the fire.

–

“What're you looking for?” the earthbender asks, as I sift through a small stack of letters. Nothing out of the ordinary, unfortunately. “'Cause, as far as I can see, you've just broken into some random old lady's house, and now you're going through her stuff?”

When you put it like that. I sigh, and straighten up. It's unlikely to be among her shopping lists, I will concede.

“The woman that lives”lived? Lives “in this house is a... an agent.”

“Of yours?”

“Of mine.”

She gives this due consideration. “You don't seem the type of guy to have agents.”

She's got me there. “I'm borrowing them. Anyway, she would have had reports. Reports I need to see.” I have to know what's happening in the Earth Kingdom. I've been out of the loop too long as it is. “They might be kept somewhere hidden.”

She sighs, long-sufferingly. “Alright, just a second.” She cracks her knuckles, theatrically, sliding into a stance. After a second, her arm slams outwards, and with a small _crack_ of stone, a partition in the wall falls open, revealing a small tin box.

“Ah. Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

–

“What did you mean,” he said, slowly, shifting his back so he was leaning up against a convenient rock, “when you asked me what I wanted, earlier?”

“I thought I told you to forget it.”

“I didn't.”

“Clearly.”

He sighed. “It obviously bothered you.”

“From where I'm standing, it seems to have bothered you more.”

“Fine, whatever. G'night.”

“Good night.”

–

The earthbender is getting bored. In my defence, there are a lot of reports. The invasion of Ba Sing Se (a total success, if completely irrelevant in the grand scheme of things), the reconstruction of Omashu (another success, and one more important than the largely symbolic recapture of that dead city), the liberation of the South (all on schedule), there were a thousand parts to this picture, and it wasn't always clear which ones were going to be important.

But read enough, and the image becomes clear. The Southern exodus to Kyoshi has all but halted, as the people of the Southern Earth Kingdom return to their homes. Fire Nation forces moving North- some small groups captured or killed (more often the latter), but most banding together in some semblance of organisation, heading towards the harbours. As predicted- standard evacuation procedures. The Eclipse broke their resolve and shattered their strongholds. Omashu has become a beacon- refugees have been flocking there. Bumi's reinstatement as King has been a huge boost to morale.

And General Fong is dead. His spearhead into the North broken. The fortresses still stand. Gathering Fire Nation forces in the Original Colonies.

With mounting horror, a pattern starts to emerge, never stated outright, but inexorable, and oh so terribly clear.

It's not enough.

The advance has stalled. The Fire Nation still holds the Northern Peninsula. The Original Colonies remain Iroh's.

We've failed.

We've failed.

The earthbender seems to notice my mounting distress.

“You alright? You seem kinda... twitchy.”

I stand, shoving the damned reports into my pockets. It takes all I have not to start pacing up and down.

“Do you think you can make your own way back to the inn?” She nods, slowly. “Could you please give my apologies to Hama and the Lady Ursa. I will be back later. There is someone I need to see.”

I just hope she's there.

–

Fire was all around her, curling and snapping, licking at her clothes and charring her hair, and the more she tried to struggle, the more the fire leapt and blazed, the trees burning all around her and out of the smoke he came. The Fire Lord, wreathed in smoke, crowned in embers, a monster in red and gold.

And he began to speak, words she couldn't understand, soft and low and rumbling and rasping, a grating murmur on the edge of hearing, edged with murder but drawing her down, pulling her towards him even as she tried to drag herself away.

And his voice changed in an instant, screaming and roaring, louder than any sound had ever been, shattering the world with screaming fury and the ground quaked and bellowed and fell away beneath her feet and she fell, a scream stuck in her throat.

 –

 Azula tore out of the nightmare, heart rattling and hair slick with sweat. Gulping down great lungfuls of air, hands rubbing the sweat out of her eyes, she flopped forward, nearly knocking her head on the heavy cloth of the makeshift tent.

It was too small. Too confined. She needed to be able to breathe. Carelessly, she pushed herself onto her feet, and with a sudden burst of energy, forced herself out of the tent, into the warm night.

There, she was confronted with the sight of Sokka. He had fallen asleep where he sat, still propped up against the rock, sword still sitting between his knees, cloak wrapped around him. Occasionally, a gentle snore lifted his chest and made his nose twitch, but otherwise, he might as well have been a corpse.

Absently, she sat next to him, facing into the glowing remains of the campfire.

She stared at the embers for a long time, and did something she should probably have done a long time ago- she took stock.

It was a grim tally. In a few short months, she had lost it all- family, home, even her strength had abandoned her. The few scraps she had dragged back had been hard-won, and just when she had thought she might be getting somewhere- Mother had come back, and she was surrounded by people who she was beginning to think she could rely on- her Uncle had taken everything away. He had broken into her life and swept it all away a second time.

So she was left in a wilderness she could not navigate, with nothing but the clothes she sat in and a teenage barbarian that knew better than to trust her. Iroh seemed so unassailable, so far beyond her meagre strength, he had taken even her drive from her. She was lost, in every sense.

But _he_ had not reacted in the same way. He was as lost as she was, and his last sight before they fell had been his sister bleeding to death on the floor of the temple, but instead of collapsing, what had he done? He had simply stood up, and taken the burden of keeping them both alive.

How _dare_ he? What _right_ did he have to stay so composed when her life was in such fragments? What kept him so- _driven_?

Slowly, carefully, and _utterly_ silently, so as not to wake her snoring companion, Azula stood, and paced slowly away from the camp, into the dark.


	41. What Do You Want?

–

_Or,_

_ Maybe You Just Need One Person. _

–

The half-moon provided just enough light to highlight the darkness of the clearing, cutting shadow with deeper shadow. A few scattered rocks littered the ground, but the dominating feature was the ancient stump of some long-dead tree, struck by lightning or some blight, the clearing formed by its death. And it was into this clearing that Azula stalked, head full of fire and hands moving restlessly, frustrated energy surging through her, propelling her into the dark.

 Yes. This would do.

 Her hands were shaking, but screwing them up into fists so tight her knuckles cracked seemed to get that under control.

 – 

The sun goes down, and I've almost left the light of the town behind me before it occurs to me that this was a bad idea. I slow, and I suddenly notice I'm breathing heavily.

 Since nobody is around, I lean on a tree, for stability.

 What was I thinking? _Was_ I thinking?

 Ask a stupid question.

 –

 Anger was good. She could trust anger- anger was the source of strength, of power, anger was simple, useful.

 She still remembered the lessons, from tutors. From Father- ( _be good_ , he had said, so quiet and thoughtful, so unsure, so far removed from what he had taught her to be, and the memory cut through her throat leaving her cold and bleeding and she nearly stumbled, but she swallowed down the thought, the image, and focused on why she was here)- _fire comes from strength of purpose. Do not fear your anger, but make it yours. Make it a tool._

 She drew a long breath, and took a stance.

 –

 What in Agni's name was I _doing_? Charging off into the wilderness on just a chance that she might be there, and then what? Complain? Dump it all on her?

 You're supposed to be an adult, damnit. This is not how adults deal with their problems. I should just turn around, and head back to-

 A twig snaps, theatrical and deliberate, whipping my head around to stare at the source of the sound.

 "Can't say I was expecting you,” she says, slipping out of the undergrowth like oil through water. “Would have thought you'd be too busy marshalling the revolution.”

 "June.”

 –

 This was entirely reasonable course of action.

 _Reasonable people don't get up in the middle of the night to burn down the forest_ , a small voice prodded at her from the back of her head.

 She wasn't going to burn down anything. She was just practising.

  _At midnight? You're not practising, you're trying to make yourself angry._

 And what was so wrong with that? Anger would be better than this cloying stupor, this choking directionlessness.

  _You're hurting yourself._

 She ignored the thought, ignored the rattling of her heart, ignored the way the voice of reason sounded like Mother, and took a long breath. In, out. In, out.

And she began to move. Her practice dropped forms into place, one smooth motion after another, pulling her across the clearing, and after a few moments fire lashed from her fingertips in a quick burst, curling out and dissolving in the night air.

And the flashes of fire grew paler and paler as she moved faster than she had in so long, old routines haunting her muscle memory, guiding and urging her forward, across the bare ground, one form flowing into another and the bursts of flame were burning hotter and hotter and behind every strike and every blow lurked the image of her brother's sightless eyes and her father's retreating back and her mother's broken sobbing and her uncle, wreathed in fire and smoke as he knocked her to the ground and her strikes grew wilder and the fire grew paler and fiercer until she lashed out with a fist and slammed into the withered husk of the tree.

It shattered under the force, cracking and splitting into shards of long-rotten wood, dust flying into the air and hovering, before a spark rattled from her closed fist, and the whole carcass exploded into blue flame.

“Is that meant to happen?” a voice asked, conversationally, from somewhere behind her, so sudden it jarred her out of anger and left her bent double, chest heaving as her body gorged itself on air. 

–

 “Soooooo,” she began, drawing out the syllable as she leaned casually against a tree, “what's going on?”

  _I wanted to make sure you'd kept up_ , I started to say, but somehow it came out as “I wanted to talk to you.” Damnit. “To someone.” That's worse. “I just wanted to talk a few things out with someone, and you happen to be here.” She might take offence at that. “Not that I'd prefer to talk to someone else, but I understand you're busy and-”

 “Oh for the love of- _shush_.”

 I am shushed.

 –

“That didn't look like that thing you learned off the Sun Warriors,” Sokka observed, casually, lounging on a shallow mound of grass at the edge of the clearing

“Just a routine,” Azula responded, schooling her features into perfect nonchalance an eternity too late. “Keeping in practice.”

It didn't fool him. There was no way it could have. But he didn't respond for a long moment, settling backwards, shifting until he was almost lying prone, staring upwards into nothing.

“I've been thinking about what you said. About what I want? I think I've figured out what you meant.” He shuffled, and nearly looked at her, scratching the back of his head, as though he wasn't sure how to begin. “I guess what I want is to still be alive to see it when you get to kick Iroh into next month.”

Azula's chest constricted. His support should have been a weight off her shoulders but somehow the idea that he believed in _her_ was a lance in her gut, and she surged to her feet, nostrils flaring and anger rising with her, and the only way to fight back was to burn it out of him.

“You still think that it's possible? After everything that's happened, you still think there is even a _chance_? Even if we cross the hundreds of miles to the capital, Iroh was in front of me at the temple, and I _couldn't beat him!_ ” she snapped, suddenly furious with him, with his wilful blindness, with his utter failure to recognise the simple truth that she had _failed_. Failed Zuko, failed Mother, failed Father. All she had left was the duty to bring retribution on Iroh's head, and even that had been too much.

“You are absolutely the scariest person I've ever met.”

– 

“Right. So what did you want to talk about?”

“We've lost.” Two little words. Twenty damn years of work, pissed away. I might as well have spent my time learning to paint.

June blinked, slowly.

“Huh. You're sure.”

“Yes. The original colonies never fell. General Fong is dead, his troops in full retreat.”

June considered this. “Okay. That's bad. But it's not _lost_ bad. I mean-”

“The Comet,” I retorted, through gritted teeth. “Omashu will be in striking distance when the Comet arrives.”

“...Ah.”

“Omashu will fall again. We can get people out, but we're running out of time, and it won't matter. Omashu is the only stronghold we have. It falls, and there's nowhere to run. The Eclipse was our only chance to end the war, and we fucked it up.”

She pushed herself up from the tree, and crossed her arms, staring up through thin branches at the half-moon.

“So,” she began, businesslike. “What's the plan?”

“I don't know.”

“Come on,” she cajoled, “you must have something.”

“I _tried_. I tried, and it didn't work. Agni help me, I was never meant for this.” What has Bumi said? What has Bumi _done_? Nothing. Not a _word_ from him since he escaped. He made me take this on and _look what happened_. I wasn't _strong enough_ , I wasn't cruel enough, wasn't hard enough, wasn't _smart_ enough, and it _failed_. All our hopes were pinned on this and it _failed_.

“Wow. You're actually freaking out about this,” she interjected, in a tone of mild surprise. After a moment, in a move so incongruous it stopped me cold, she -slightly awkwardly- reached out, and patted me on the shoulder.

In all the time I have known her, I don't think I have ever seen June willingly touch another human being, unless it was to inflict horrible violence on them.

 –

Azula blinked, simple surprise overtaking everything else.

He gesticulated, grabbing at the air as if he was trying to squeeze the words into shape. “I mean... Toph can throw buildings around whenever she feels like it, and Aang's, you know, _Aang_ , but you- you're good at getting your way. And yeah, my knee still aches when it's about to rain, so maybe it's not always a great thing for everyone, but ever since you woke up and started walking and talking and you know, I just can't help feeling like I'm getting pulled along behind you, and-” finally, he paused to inhale, but before she could begin to untangle exactly what he had said, he started up again, with a little more control.

“I'm not gonna lie. This is terrible. This is a really bad situation to be in. But we can deal with it. You know, it's amazing what you can deal with if the only other option is dying horribly thousands of miles from home.” He sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. “The thing I was trying to say is... this is a setback. We lost at the temple. He got the drop on us, and we lost pretty hard. But I'm not done, and I don't think you are either. So we're gonna get through this, and the next time we meet the Fire Lord, _we_ get to be the ones to break into _his_ house and mess up _his_ stuff.”

No words came to her.

What was she supposed to do? What was she supposed to do when he saw the weakest, most despicably _broken_ part of her, and refused to believe it? How could she fight _that_?

Azula was suddenly aware of how tired her body was. Her knees ached, and she slid down to the ground, her arms leaden with the cold and her own exhaustion finally catching up to her. 

She could hear his footsteps brushing through the grass, pacing gently towards her, slow and hesitant, staggering to a halt as she raised her head to look at him.

There was a hitch in his step and a look in his eye and a realisation bubbled up through her head, a meagre revelation but she took it nonetheless.

“You're afraid.”

“...Yeah.” The admission stuck in his throat and the way he hesitated was a victory, a tiny push of the scales back towards her. She could _see_ him, at last, cut to the bone, fear and frustration and desperate energy, and it wasn't a lot but it would be enough. Enough to know what was driving him on, enough not to feel so adrift.

“Let's get back to camp.”

 

–

I'm sitting down, in the damp undergrowth. June is casually leaning on my head. It's fairly uncomfortable.

“Okay, you calm now?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Yeah, well, don't mention it,” she responds, in a tone that ensures I absolutely never will. “Started thinking yet?”

“I think...” Well, I think her elbow digging into the top of my head is becoming quite painful. I shift backwards, propping my back up against a mess of tangled tree roots, and June steps away, facing me with arms folded. “I think I need to talk to the Avatar.”

She's not impressed. I can tell from the way she kicks me in the shin.

“So that's it? That's the plan now? Wait for this kid to pull off some kind of miracle?” She cocks an eyebrow, derisively. “I remember you saying that waiting for the Avatar to save us all was for idiots and the delusional. I thought it was the smartest thing I ever heard you say.”

“True. In fairness, that was about four years ago. I was fairly sure he was dead back then.”

“And it's not like he's a whole lot more impressive now. He's _twelve_. Maybe thirteen by now, as if that's any better.”

“I know. But he's the Avatar. I have to know what he intends to do.”

“Please. I know _exactly_ what he intends to do, although I don't think he knows all the words for it yet.”

I do my best to frown. “That wasn't funny.”

“Yes it was.”

“ _June_.”

“ _Piandao_. Your master plan is going to be 'talk to this kid, hope he has it all figured out'. As plans go, not exactly your best.”

I shrug, too exhausted to rise to her. “You've got to concede that I've had worse. Besides, I never said I was going to hope. I'm going to talk to him. But I'm going to write some letters as well, just in case.”

That gets her attention. “You've actually got a plan?”

I pull myself to my feet. Oddly, I'm feeling sort of cheerful, in a wrung-out way, like I've had a good cry. I'm buoyed up by the knowledge that whatever the hell I do next, it can't be the wrong decision, because I've already _made_ the wrong decision, whatever it was, so everything following is going to be a step up.

“No, but if Jeong-Jeong doesn't have enough to do, he'll start to fret.”

“Okay-” I can't help but start to grin, because I've got June on the back foot, it _finally happened_ \- “what're you going to do, then?”

“Something. Something along the lines of talk to the Avatar.” It's the only card left, after all.

June evidently gives up, rolling her eyes and shrugging her shoulders as I point myself back towards the town. “...Okay then, have fun. Hope you come up with something good, otherwise we'll all die, I guess.”

“Be careful,” I tell her, half over my shoulder. “There's something strange about this place.”

“ _Pfft,_ ” she replies, rolling her eyes. “And that makes it different from everywhere else?”

“But still. Take care.”

“Yeah, well, you too, you big lug.”

“I will.”

“You're the worst liar I've ever met.”

“I've been getting that a lot today.”

–

The next morning, Azula woke, and stared upwards at the ceiling of her tent. The cloth walls vaguely muffled the sounds of the wild greeting the dawn- birds and beetles and rustling leaves, punctuated by the soothing tenor of Sokka's muffled swearing as he was attacked by midges. 

He had been... not _entirely_ wrong. Last night. This was a setback. But at least now, she knew what she was up against.

She no longer had the Avatar, she reminded herself. True. But had that ever been a real plan? Throw the Avatar at Iroh, wait and see what happened? No. In the end, she'd always known how it had to be. For Iroh to die at any hand but hers would be an insult.

With a burst of energy, she pulled herself to her feet, uncurling as she stepped out into the morning. Sokka looked up, and gave her an awkward twitch that looked like he was trying to give her a reassuring smile without her actually noticing. There was a moment of terrible uncertainty as she considered how to respond- she was trying not to dwell on what had passed between them last night, what he had said, what he had _meant_ \- but after a breath, she settled on a curt nod, which he returned, seeming more comfortable with that, and rose up off his knees.

“We,” she declared, eyes fixed on a point somewhere past the back of his head, voice steady and declarative as if she was addressing an army, “are going to need a plan.”


	42. Bold Soldiers

 

_or,_

_We Who Grew Up Tall and Proud._

* * *

The night is drawing in. Rain patters on the roof, as the Avatar shuffles in his seat. The waterbender (Katara, _Katara_ , people have _names_ ) perched on a low stool. They're waiting for me to say something. Maybe whoever is lurking in the hallway is as well.

I can see it in his eyes. He's unsure. He took my explanation of who I am indifferently- and why would he not? Why should he care about the Order? But he at least understands what I represent, now. He understands the extent of my resources. I might be able to persuade him, if I cared to.

(It feels like so long ago when I last considered being honest with the Avatar.)

That's what Jeong-Jeong would want me to do here, I think. It might be the last thing that saves us. The Avatar has to be prepared to kill Iroh. The Avatar has to be prepared to throw the Fire Nation's counterattack into disarray.

Well, fuck Jeong-Jeong. Fuck the Order. Fuck every last one of them if they expect me to turn this boy into a murderer. If this is what salvation looks like, I will have no part in it.

So what _do_ I say? He knows what he needs to do, I think. Not consciously, perhaps. Maybe he just needs to be argued into it.

"So... what exactly did you want to talk to me about?"

Well, here goes nothing.

"The siege of the Northern Water Tribe."

That turns a couple of heads, at least. Katara looks defensive, past the surprise. I might as well have struck the Avatar. I press on.

"I won't pretend I know exactly what happened that night. I don't understand the Spirits, and I hardly care to. The facts that I do understand, though, are that you joined with the spirit of the ocean, and broke the back of the Fire Nation's blockade. I also understand that roughly four thousand members of the Fire Navy died that night. More, in the weeks that followed." I pause just long enough to breathe in, and to gauge his quiet reaction, and get to the point. "What did you intend to happen?"

"I-" he bites down some practised response. Katara looks ready to spring to his defence, but says nothing just yet. Haltingly, his eyes never leaving the fireplace, he answers. "I wanted the fighting to be over. I wanted the soldiers out. La- the spirit- was so angry, it just wanted to hurt them, and-"

"I am not asking what the spirit wanted. I just want to know what _you_ thought."

"I wanted it to be over."

"Thank you." It looks like I might actually be right. I lean back, and cross one leg over the other, wondering how exactly to phrase this.

"Who is your enemy, Avatar?"

I don't think he expected that.

"What?"

"Who are you fighting? Iroh?" This war didn't start with Iroh and you can be sure it won't end with him. You think it's just one man keeping this war going?

"Well-"

I choke back a brief flash of anger. Is this it? Is this the extent of your strength? Do you really think this war won't just outlive another Fire Lord?

"Avatar," I shift forward, the leather of the chair creaking as I reach for the bellows. Stoking the fire gives me a moment to gather my thoughts, and it doesn't take long for the embers to flare back into life. An idea comes to me. "I do not think you quite understand."

I lean back again, and try not to look at whoever it is that is lurking in the other room, just out of sight. Whoever it is, they're welcome to listen as well, I suppose.

Now. How to begin.

* * *

_Head bowed, eyes red, stomach curling in on itself, the boy is dragged into the tent. Too scared to question anything, too tired to cry again, he just shivers, and tries to hide behind himself. Adult voices- men, throats low and rumbling- are talking just a few feet away, but he can't hear a word over the rattling of his heart in his ears, and he doesn't look up to see them._

_A hand, heavy and gnarled, claps on his shoulder, so loud and sudden his knee buckles, and before he knows what's happening he's being steered out of the tent, and back into the cold._

* * *

"I was born under the reign of Fire Lord Azulon, to a minor noble house. My father and mother were both exceptional firebenders, and, when I disappointed them, I was disowned, struck from my family records, and sent to the army. I was six years old.

"I don't even remember their names."

* * *

_The wooden training sword slips from his hands, and before he can blink his world rings with pain._

_"Dead. Next."_

_The boy slinks back into line, choking down the urge to scream._

* * *

"It's not such a unique story. There must be thousands like me, orphans, street children caught and sent away, or foundlings, simply given away. We all got sent to the camps."

* * *

_"Dead. Next."_

_The boy takes his place in front of the trainer, breathless but steady._

_The man takes a stance, and looks ready to lunge, but this time the boy is ready. He swings, two-handed, and as the trainer steps back, the boy charges, jabbing the point of his weapon into the man's thick-veined neck._

_"Dead," he hisses, triumphant, as the man staggers back, gurgling._

* * *

"We were dressed, and trained, and fed, and given a place to sleep. And as payment, we died. Of all the boys I trained with, boys I spent every day and night with for the next six years, I am the only one still alive."

* * *

_The young man slides onto the bench, grinning through the smoke and noise of the room. Rings in silver and jade clink against his glass as he raises it in raucous salute. Down the table, someone reaches the punchline to a joke, and laughter rips through the warm air. In the brief lull, the man to his right notices his arrival, and nods._

_"Hah! Not dead yet, then."_

_"Not yet."_

_"I was so sure you'd bought it when you did that thing with the shield."_

_"Hey! You can't deny it worked. You should have seen the looks on their faces."_

* * *

"If you lived, as I did, you discovered something quickly. This war is not so very terrible, as long as you survive it. The more I killed, the more I was rewarded for it.

"I loved it. I had fun with it."

* * *

_The Watch officer pinches the bridge of her nose, and tries not to look down._

_"So... Lieutenant Piandao..."_

_"I can explain, Officer."_

_"I'm sure you can. Care to answer a few questions?"_

_"Of course, Officer."_

_"Thank you. So, the easy one out of the way first, why were you here?"_

_"In the baths? I was relaxing. I had heard about the hot springs, and I'd been told I had to visit them while I was in the area."_

_"Okay, reasonable enough. But... what happened while you were... relaxing?"_

_"Well, I'd just settled into the bath-"_

_"I can see that- sorry, carry on with your story."_

_"As I was saying, I'd just settled into the bath, when I overheard a conversation by these men in the other bath. They were plotting. So I intervened."_

_"Plotting. Anything... specific?"_

_"Well if I'm honest I didn't wait long enough to find out. One of them said something about sapping and another mentioned something about the Governor, so I thought that was probably enough reason for me to detain them."_

_"And I suppose that's why they're all still alive," the officer remarks, blithely._

_"Yes."_

_"That was a- never mind. So," she says, trying to move the interview along as quickly as possible, "your Captain says you are on leave."_

_"That's correct."_

_"I have to wonder if you actually know what that word means, Lieutenant."_

_"I do seem to have a habit of taking my work on holiday with me. Sorry about that, Officer."_

_"...And, off the record, but... why?"_

_"...Why what?"_

_"You know wh- the heels. Why did you take some poor woman's heels and use them to attack the assassins?"_

_"They wouldn't let me take my sword into the baths. Only pointed weapons I had to hand."_

_"...To foot, you mean. Which just raises further questions."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Why you didn't just hold them. I'll grant you that they're pretty remarkably sharp, as shoes go, and the way you managed to get them through that one guy's hand was impressive, but I don't understand why you actually felt you had to put them on your feet."_

_"...To be honest, it didn't occur to me to do anything else."_

_"Right, well, no further questions, enjoy the rest of your leave."_

_"Thank you, Officer."_

* * *

"I made a name for myself, on a dozen battlefields, before I was old enough to shave. I had anything, anything I could have asked for. Money, fame, respect, honour, it was mine for the taking. I killed people beyond counting, and they only cheered louder."

* * *

_There's a moment of silence as he steps into the mess hall, every eye on him, his name suddenly on everyone's lips, and he smiles. It had been a good day._

_He steps lightly over to his place at the table, calm and unhurried, heart stopping just for a moment, an almost familiar twinge now, as he sits next to the empty place._

_"Not yet," he mumbles, into his drink._

* * *

"I am the greatest swordsman of my generation. Ask anyone you like. Even those that hate me won't deny it, for all that they'll say my name with a curse. And that fact, that I earned through slaughter and war and more than twenty years of happily taking orders, got me from a patch of bare earth and clothes that weren't even mine to riches beyond measure. If I had continued to serve, I would be a member of Iroh's inner circle by now, rubbing shoulders with men and women born to their posts.

"What would a man like me ever want with peace?"

* * *

_The man sits in his tent, staring at the rugs that litter the ground. A shirt of fine silk rests on his shoulders, one arm in a sleeve._

_"Not yet," he mutters, to nobody._

_"Master?" He looks up to see a skittish messenger-boy hovering at the flap of the tent, discomfited by having no door to knock. "The General sent me to get you. It's time, he says."_

_The man sighs, and shifts into a standing position, pulling his shirt closed. "Of course. I won't keep the General waiting."_

* * *

"Because there are countless men like me. Every nation is breeding us, rewarding us for our violence, turning murder into heroism, death into art. They told stories about me to children.

"That is why the death of Iroh will do you no good, Avatar. That is what you truly face."

He's staring blankly into the fire by the time I'm finished, wrung out, ready for nothing more challenging than unconsciousness. The waterbender, Katara, sees something I miss, and touches the boy lightly on the shoulder, and he relaxes. And, finally, he speaks.

"I'm sorry."

It's not what I expected and I'm more touched than I thought I would be, but I have to shake my head. "I was not blaming you. It is what it is. I just wanted to make sure you understand."

"Yeah."

It's easier to stare at my hands than look him in the eye.

"Iroh... may have to die. It may be that this war will not end unless he does. But it is not your mission to kill him. You are not a murderer, and Agni knows I have met enough to tell the difference. I don't know what you can do for us. It may be that we are beyond saving. But, for what it's worth, I would like you to try. I know I have no right to ask."

The pause is long enough that I feel sleep draping over me, and I haul myself upright, moving towards a bed.

The Avatar speaks as I am about to leave the room.

"Piandao." Something in his voice makes me turn. "You said you've got nothing to gain from peace, and I guess you'd know. But you're here. You've given it all away to try and help me. Thank you, Master Piandao. You don't give yourself enough credit."

What do you say to something like that?

"Goodnight, Avatar."

* * *

_In the end, there's no grand declaration. No defiant screaming to the heavens, no confrontation with anyone sent to stop him. He doesn't even have to kill anyone. He just packs up his belongings, walks out of his tent, and leaves._

_Nobody follows. Not that day._

* * *

I woke, some time after midnight, in desperate need of water.

The night was cool, and cloudless, so I pulled on a shirt, buckled my sword to my hip, because if I start getting into bad habits like not wearing my sword everywhere I go I might as well be dead already, and stumbled down to the back of the inn, in search of the water-butt.

I make it three steps out into the night air before I trip and almost fall and I can't move and Hama appears in front of me, white and shaking and raising her hand, clawed fingers stretched out towards my chest and my ribs are too tight and I can't remember the last time I was this afraid and I keep trying to reach for my sword but my hands won't move.

"I heard your little speech," she spits, eyes wide and furious. "You learn mercy now? Now you've torn us apart and killed our tribes, _now_ you learn about peace? How... _convenient_."

I'd retort, if I could be allowed to move my jaw.

"No," she continues, barely audible over the roar of blood in my ears. A gesture, and I buckle forward, knees crashing into the dirt, fighting with everything I have just to be able to breathe " _no_. I will not be denied!"

I barely have time to look her in the eye before everything goes black.


	43. Chains

 

_or,_

 

_ And Nobody Can Hear You Scream When I Reach For You. _

 

* * *

 

 

I feel the heat before anything else, the prickling, sweating warmth of too many bodies pressed together. The _smell_ is next- a sickly, pungent mix of filth and sweat and rot. Then comes the sound, just on the edge of hearing. A rattle of breath. A muted groan. The clink of chains.  
  
I open my eyes, but nothing changes. Black on black. Well that's helpful.  
  
I can't say I was exactly _expecting_ this, but I would be lying if I said this was the first time something like this had ever happened to me. So, focus on primary sensations. What hurts?  
  
Not as much as I was expecting, actually. Wrists. Something sharp is digging in to them. Shoulders- arms are strung up above my head, suspended by my wrists. Right. We're beginning to get a picture together. Feet? On the ground. Knees bent. Very awkward. Tied?  
  
An experimental kick answers that. Yes. Almost slipped there. Won't be trying that again in a hurry.  
  
So whoever chained me up used chains set up for a shorter person than I. Helpful? Might be helpful. Might help answer the big question.  
  
What the _hell_ happened?  
  
I remember... I remember...  
  
 _I trip, and don't move again. Hama, lunging from the blackness. Screaming, old words, old pains. Raising her hand and everything goes dark.  
  
_ What _was_ that? Poison?  
  
“ _Hama_ ,” I mutter, mostly to check that I still can.  
  
 _Right_. The intricacies of international warfare might be utterly beyond me, but a hate-filled old poisoner? _That_ I can _deal_ _with_.  
  
It's almost nice to have a goal.  
  
First things first. The chains. Don't feel rusty, but she's forgotten the important part. The wall they're bolted to. The bolts are weak, shallow.  
  
As I awkwardly shift into a standing position, I register for the first time a familiar weight at my hip.  
  
I almost have to laugh. She's left me my sword.  
  
 _They will always underestimate you._ The creed of the mere human. An unexpected bonus, but I'm not about to argue. It will definitely help with what comes next.  
  
Experimentally, I spit forwards, into the darkness, and strain my ears. Nobody complains especially. So the ground in front of me is either clear, or whoever is there is in no state to object.  
  
I hope it's the former. Either way, I brace myself, and grab two fistfuls of the chains that tether my arms.  
  
Leverage. It's all about leverage. I begin to pull, pushing my whole body into the action, stretching and heaving and my hands are slick with sweat but this is _nothing_ , nothing to how hard people have tried to restrain me before, and if I got out of that I had damn well better get out of this and suddenly the bolts give and I'm flung to the ground.  
  
My arms are free; the sword makes short work of the chains around my ankles. I'm suddenly aware of a change in the texture in the air. An intake of breath. A murmured prayer. A question, so faint I can barely hear it, so weak it might not be there at all. “ _What's happening?_ ”  
  
I turn away from them, and inch towards what I hope is the exit, feeling my way along the wall, and twelve eternal heartbeats later my hands brush against something.  
  
An unlit torch, in a sconce. A few moments' more blind fumbling gets my hand on a set of spark rocks.  
  
I close my eyes, and light the torch.  
  
Turning back, it hits me for the first time. The serried ranks of chained bodies, dozens upon dozens, shifting in the light, turning and twisting a huddled mass of writhing bodies, old and... quite young. The way not everyone moved. Some too tired to do anything but roll their heads. More not moving at all.  
  
I think that image will stay with me until the day I die.  
  
In some corner of my brain, I'm almost surprised at how angry I am.  
  
But these are _my_ people, left to choke and die in their own filth. Not soldiers. Just my _people_. It counts for something after all.  
  
I manage four words. They're all I can spare.  
  
“I will get help.”  
  
Then I turn for the door. A huge, heavy metal thing (what was this place? Winter storage?) The sword tears it apart like damp clay, and I charge into the night.  
  
Nearly colliding with the Bei Fong girl.  
  
“Master Piandao? I've been looking all over for you! You went missing and Hama's acting all weird and _what the hell is going on in there?_ ” Her attention diverted, she moves towards the cave.  
  
Hama. “Back at the inn? _Are they still back at the inn?_ ” She nods, and I clap her on the shoulder, steering her towards the cave. _“Help them_ ,” I order, not thinking that I am about to send a twelve-year-old girl into that place. She is the only one here, the only one that can help them.  
  
The moon is high in the sky, and the lights of the town are visible through the trees. I start to run. Running seems to be an _excellent_ idea right now.

 

* * *

 

I hit the town, accelerating on paved streets, and tug my sword free as I climb the hill to the inn.  
  
The plan is simple. I am going to part Hama's head from her shoulders. Then maybe explain things to the Avatar. Bei Fong will back me up, should he need convincing.  
  
As I approach the courtyard, the sound of raised voices suggests that perhaps he won't.  
  
He's standing in front of the Lady Ursa, shielding her from Katara and Hama, who are screaming at each other at the tops of their voices.  
  
Perfect. Now, how to approach this...  
  
Fast. With luck, I can cross the courtyard before she knows what's happening. After all, as far as she knows, I'm still waiting to die in the dark, like everyone else she's preyed on. So here goes.  
  
I burst from the shadows, blade in hand and make it three whole steps before my body just stops.  
  
I can't breathe. Hama has raised a hand, eyes fixed on me.  
  
“And here he is!” she screeches, twisting the air in front of her and my body obeys, dropping me to my knees, but she lets me look at her, a parody of etiquette, she's keeping me still but she wants an _audience_ “The great Defector himself! This is the _best_ of them, Katara! The _best_ , because after he grew rich on our blood, he saw the light, and now he decides he can tell us how to wage our war! And what does he decide? No camps for _them_ , Katara! No tortures, no purges! When he tells us how to fight _them_ he hobbles us, de-fangs us! He would deny our revenge, and we roll over and _let_ him!”  
  
I have seen the fire storms of the North. I have seen the bloody work of Earth Kingdom marauders. I have walked among the ashes of towns and villages, I have seen the remains of a collaborator and his family, hanging from the second-storey window of their home. I have heard the broken silence of the Lower Ring.  
  
I have seen what vengeance gets you, witch.  
  
“And _her_!” A claw jabs at the lady Ursa, and I'm suddenly noticing that only Hama is moving “Another painted monster, another bloodless murderer, content to watch us burn as long as it doesn't inconvenience _her_! No more of it!” and I'm moving, my sword arm up, body dragging across the dirt of the courtyard, the Avatar between us, now tossed aside like a rag, the Lady rooted to the spot, bloodless and still and no, _no_ , this is _not_ how it happens, I cannot, I _will not_ \- I know now in the depths of my battered and bruised soul I know what I am _not_ and I have never raised a blade against a civilian and this monster will _not make me do it-_ she raises my arm. I resist. _  
  
_And it hurts it hurts it hurts like nothing i've ever felt and through my screams i can just hear the sound of shouting and crashing and through my tears my arm is shaking every vein in it picked out in purple and black and the fire was nothing compared to this and still my arm does. _not. Move.  
  
_ “ __Stop. ”  
  
And the pressure stops so suddenly leaving every nerve singing with the aftershocks of pain and there's another hand on my strings forcing my knuckles to straighten and my sword tumbles from my grip and I'm pushed to the side as Hama screams and it is music to my ears.

 

* * *

 

I must have passed out. I'm flat on my back, my eyes fluttering open.  
  
“...Agni, his _eyes_ -”  
  
My vision is red, and blurred.  
  
Every capillary in my eyes must have burst. More or less everything hurts right now.  
  
Katara appears as I stubbornly push myself upright. She reaches towards my arm, still pricked with agony, and I can't hide a flinch- it's unworthy but whatever Hama did, whatever _Katara_ did... I can't fight that. For the first time in _years_ I'm afraid.  
  
Through the blood I see how she recoils. I might as well have struck her.  
  
Well _done_ , Piandao. At this rate, you'll get a medal once this is over. Most Children Hurt For No Damn Reason.  
  
I bite down on the thought, no time for that, and retrieve my sword, holding it in my left. I survey the scene. The Lady Ursa is white-faced, but gratifyingly free of puncture wounds. Hama is-  
  
 _still alive_. Sprawled in the dirt, stunned but obviously alive.  
  
I'm about to suggest something when the earthbender skids into the courtyard, short of breath and looking about as well as everyone else.  
  
She turns to me, first.  
  
“They got out. Some of them- the others- oh I'm gonna be sick- they got out. Most of them. But they're coming. Soldiers, guards, watch, whatever, they're _coming_ , and they're _not_ happy.”  
  
Time for a quick decision. Well, this was always going to happen.  
  
“Avatar, go. I will cover your tracks. They must not know you were here.”  
  
“But-”  
  
“Avatar, _go._ I will stay. Trust me, no-one will suspect you were ever here when I am through.” His eyes flick to Hama’s prone form. “Do you think she will help the authorities out of spite? No, leave. Now.”  
  
“Where will you go?” Still so concerned. It is safe to say that Avatar Aang will never see the bigger picture. Bless him, for that.  
  
“Even in the heart of the Fire Nation, there are wild places. This is what I do, Avatar, and they have never caught me yet.”

 

* * *

 

I wait until they are as far away as I think is safe. On the ground, Hama begins to stir.  
  
If I were slightly more conniving than I think I am, I might have waited for her to make some movement, some sign that she was about to attack me. I have never been fond of equivocation, however, and more to the point not a fucking chance am I giving her a chance to try that again.  
  
So my blade takes her head as she still scrabbles on the ground. I still have enough mercy left in me to make it quick, at least.  
  
I turn and limp into the town, ready for the challenge ahead of me.

 

* * *

 

They are coming. I can barely stand, but stand I must.  
  
They're combing the streets- methodical. They'll find me soon enough, and with luck I will be all they find. I must be all they find.  
  
So I stand, and turn to see as the first squad of men crests the hill. My veins are coursing with fire and my lungs are full of knives, but I drag my sword up. Flames are all that show in its black reflection.  
  
And my heart is hammering and my knees are threatening to buckle and the adrenaline is long gone and I may even be choking on my own fear, but my arm, my arm is oh so steady.

 

* * *

 

It is bare minutes until I am surrounded. They stand, none closer than ten feet away, hugging the walls. In the spirit of inquiry, I shuffle forwards. Those in front of me step back, and those behind me step forward.  
  
They are scared. Behind the fire and steel, they are scared out of their minds. Of _me_. Of a man that can barely hold his sword.  
  
And why wouldn’t they be? They know me, they know my reputation. And by their stances, I know them. Local militia, old men put out to pasture, young boys and girls playing at being soldiers. The ones that couldn’t cut it in the _real_ army. We always sneered at the home guard, in my day.  
  
So what do I do now? Do I charge, and allow these few the unexpected honour of taking my head? Perhaps I should. Perhaps it’s time I gave something back. Give these people a few medals to brighten up their outdated, never-used armour.  
  
A little drastic, though. Really, if I don’t want to die (and I don’t, still) there’s only one choice.  
  
I straighten, just a little, and drop my sword.  
  
Well done everybody. Medals all round.


	44. Normal Service

_or,_

_ Flush My Worries Down The Drain. _

–

The wood flooring creaked softly with the ebb and swell of the ship, and Azula shuffled in her hammock, in a vain attempt to find a position that was anything less than agonising.  She would never have thought she would miss sleeping on the bison's saddle.

Below her, she could hear Sokka's deliberate breathing, amplified by the dark.  Something was on his mind, she could tell.

Right on cue, he cleared his throat, the sound thick and startlingly loud in the blackness, and started to talk.

"You're awake, right?"

She didn't dignify that with an answer, and fortunately it didn't seem like he needed one.

"Okay... this is gonna seem really mean, I guess, but, uh, you remember that time you promised me an answer?"

This was serious.  For a moment, she considered leaning over the lip of her hammock to glare at him, but all that would realistically accomplish would be tipping her out of the blasted thing and dropping her on top of him, which would hardly be productive.

"Go on," she managed.

"Okay, so, the thing is, I don't know if you've thought about it but I've been thinking about it a whole lot, see, when Iroh gets what's coming to him, the thing is... you'll be Fire Lord."  His voice was as serious as she'd ever heard it, and she was about to try to interrupt him just because he was starting to worry her when he finally got to the point.  "Are you gonna end the war?"

Ah.  She should have expected this, sooner rather than later.

There was the easy answer, of course, which was just to tell him what he wanted to hear.  She dismissed it.  He'd know.

She supposed, given the circumstances, she should really have seen this coming.

–

Azula tried not to think how they'd looked, staggering out of the wilderness and into the small hamlet.  When she made a subsistence fisherman appear hygienic and well-groomed, _well_.  It didn't bear contemplating.

But this was _civilisation_ , or at least a bunch of illiterate peasants vaguely attempting it, and that was absolutely good enough for her. If she never saw a tree at anything less remote than the middle distance ever again, that would be absolutely fine with her.  
  
But civilisation had come with its own problems, and Azula had been moderately humiliated to realise that neither of them was carrying any money.  
  
Azula had proposed the simplest answer, but Sokka had not approved.  
  
“Azula, stealing from these people would be what we call _morally wrong_.” He'd stopped short, and attempted to stare at his own mouth. “Huh. Feels kinda weird to be the one saying that.”  
  
Eventually, food and passage to the mainland had been procured in exchange for some of the jewellery Azula had safeguarded for just such an emergency. Still, she knew they would only last for so long, and had been hoping to save at least the majority of them until they actually _needed_ them. So, she had been understandably annoyed with Sokka's attack of basic human decency, and had let him know.  
  
“I don't see why you should care what happens to a bunch of Fire Nation villagers anyway,” she'd sniped, as they headed for the dock. She hadn't meant anything by it, of course, but she hadn't missed the shadow that flashed across his brow.

  
–

And so, here she was, lying in a hammock, being asked difficult questions in the middle of the night.

End the war? She remembered the Northern Air Temple, the so-called King In Exile, and couldn't repress a sneer. Was he suggesting she bow to _them_?

_No_ , she realised with a sudden shock.  _He's asking because you might be his enemy at the end of this_ .

That was not happening. She would not allow it. So was it that simple? Was that all it would take to fix her decision?

In daylight, she might have decided differently, but the night was conducive to idle speculation, and she found herself for the first time seriously considering the world after she removed Iroh from it.

Step one: achieve the impossible. Then what?

"Yes," she decided.  Surrender?  _Never_.  But a truce, a period of negotiation?  With Sozin's Comet at her back?  Yes, she could certainly see that having several distinct advantages.

Besides, it was _Iroh's_ war, if it was anyone's.  It had been Iroh that kept it going, that pushed through the Earth Kingdom, that shattered Ba Sing Se.  It had been Iroh that _failed_.  Failed to secure victory, wasting more and more on this idiotic scheme.  Yes, she could see it now, the battered Earth Kingdom bowing before her, conceding anything in exchange for-

"Okay," Sokka shrugged, interrupting her increasingly fevered imagination.  "Good enough for me."  There was the sound of him turning over.  "G'night."

Oh well.  "Good night."

–

Sokka made no mention of her decision the next morning, which was just as well for him, because as far as she could tell he had mastered some arcane Water Tribe spine techniques that allowed him to sleep in a hammock without wanting to die the next day, and that was very nearly reason enough for her to want to throw him over the side.

–

Her first morning back on the mainland was a particularly annoying one. Sokka was beginning to aggravate her.

She'd had a vague sense of where they were, of course, it wasn't like she'd be lost without him, but that didn't matter because it turned out he'd been carrying maps this entire time and so her vague estimation of the ground they had to cover had been _upstaged_ , there was really no other word for it, by his suspiciously _detailed_ itinerary. He'd even drawn a _chart,_ although Agni alone knew where he'd found the time. She was beginning to get the distinct impression that she was not contributing as much as she could be contributing to this expedition.

Normally, this wouldn't have been a problem, of course. Having servants around to do mundane things like read maps and prepare her food and brush her hair (not that he'd done that last one, although one evening when she'd clearly been awake too long she'd decided he probably would, if she asked) was perfectly acceptable, and indeed positively expected of someone of her station.

But Sokka wasn't a servant, he was- he was- she wasn't entirely sure  _what_ he was, other than impossibly smug, but the fact remained that she could hardly class him as any kind of retainer. He was just... a partner?

She tried the word out for size, and decided she didn't like it much. Better to simply say that he was  _there_ , and he was making her feel condescended to with his colour-coded charts. It wasn't as though  _she_ couldn't have come up with a route to the capital, if she'd been the one carrying the maps. It was just that he was, and he had, and now she could either do what she was told, or come up with some contrived reason why his perfectly reasonable plan of action couldn't possibly work. So, instead, she had picked a third option, which was to stalk off into the town while Sokka was distracted by a stall offering discounts on satchels, and pace the streets, fuming.

She was aware, on some level, that she was being slightly ridiculous, but she figured it was owed to her at this point.

It was at this point, as she stalked through the street, attention fixed firmly on the inside of her own head, that she very nearly fell over.

She suddenly skidded on a loose footing, and glanced down. She had stepped on a thin piece of paper- an abandoned poster, the colours still vibrant, a list of dates still visible.  
  
Moving as though in a daze, she bent down to pick it up, and examined it intently. Yes, yes, _this could work_...  
  
Abruptly, she folded the poster, and tucked it under her arm. Then she cast around, and stepped directly in front of the next passer-by she saw- an older woman carrying a basket of fish.

“What's the date?” she asked, and the woman gaped.  
  
“Beg pardon?” she replied, and Azula's patience snapped clean in two.  
  
“The _date_ , I said! What's the _date_?”

–

 

Azula couldn't contain  a smirk as she paced back to the stall where she had left Sokka.  He was, as she had suspected he might be, still there, weighing up two bags thoughtfully.

"Which one's better?" he asked, as she moved into earshot.  "The green one with the straps, or this brown one?"

Azula gave the items a cursory glance.  "They're both terrible."

Sokka deflated, his arms twitching upward before flopping limply at his side.  "I know, but they're so _cheap_."

Azula shrugged.  "Well, you get what you pay for.  Although," she added, noticing the shopkeeper eyeing Sokka hopefully, "with a bag like _that_ , they should really be paying _you_."

Sokka snorted.  "Yeah, I mean, just _look_ at this one, I'm pretty sure I could sneeze this thing in half."

"With a strap like that, the only thing you could carry in that would be" she cast around for something hilarious, and failed "soap bubbles."

Sokka didn't seem to mind.  "And just _look_ at the colour on this!  It wouldn't go with this cloak _at all_."

Azula noted with no small gratification that the bag seller had shamefacedly turned away, and decided her work here was done.  Steering Sokka by the elbow, she tugged him away from the stall, and into the street.

"Anyway, I was wondering, how do you feel about a bit of temporary employment?"  She thrust the poster into his hands before he could reply.  He unfurled it, dutifully, and scowled at it, trying to work out what she was getting at.

She let him struggle for a second, but no longer, just in case he actually managed to figure it out.  She _absolutely_ didn't want to let him steal her thunder again.

"We're going to join the circus."

–

At Azula's insistence, they had rented a single room. After all, their funds were limited. Truthfully, Sokka hadn't argued the decision as much as she'd been expecting. After all, it was the routine they had both grown used to by now.

There was only one bed, of course. Two would have been a pointless luxury, as well as a temptation to do something extremely dangerous.

No matter how much closer she was to home, she remembered the state of the Fire Nation. Whether Iroh thought she was dead or not, this was enemy territory. So she took the first watch, and tried not to envy Sokka's extreme skill at falling asleep in minutes.

She sat on the single chair, contemplating the floorboards in the dark, trying to listen past Sokka shifting position in his sleep, and thought about the next stage of the plan.

Certainly, it would be slower than if the two of them charged for the capital as quickly as possible, but it would be infinitely safer. Circuses moved all the time, and if the dates on the poster were to be believed, they would be back at the capital before the end of Summer.

And besides...

She shook her head, a short, violent attempt to dislodge the persistent thought. No. Hoping like that benefited nobody. The circus would be a fine disguise, and provide passage to the capital. That was all.

But still, in the absence of any better distractions, she found herself wondering.


	45. Seasonal Employment

_or,_

_ Well I Don't Know if I'm Walking on Solid Ground  
_

* * *

The irritating thing about circuses, Azula was beginning to discover, was the fact that it was not immediately obvious where to find the person in charge. At least while they were in the process of packing up, they were a riot of confusing activity, people scuttling in every conceivable direction, apparently completely without order, carrying rolls of canvas and bits of wood, really, it needed some kind of central organiser, someone to direct and control all this, and the whole task could be completed in half the ti-

"So who're you looking for?"

Azula stopped short. "Excuse me?"

"Well you're obviously looking for someone. Just wondered if I should be keeping an eye out."

Azula affected a nonchalant shrug.

"Anyone who looks like they might be in charge."

Sokka blinked, and cocked his head.

“Okay," was all he said, though, so at least there was that.

* * *

In the end, she didn't even see her first. The first she realised what was going on was the sudden feeling of someone tapping her on the shoulder as she was trying to find her way around a thick knot of people.

“ _...Azula_?”

She blinked, turning to the question, and for a second her heart might have stopped. She was there, right in front of her, alive and whole and the sole idiot thought drifting through her head was _she's wearing her hair longer._

“Ty Lee.”

That was as far as she got before the girl tackled her almost to the ground, rattling out a million questions Azula couldn't even begin to understand.

A squawk of surprise and the sound of metal sliding on leather told her that Sokka was going for his sword, and Azula waved him down without turning to look at him.

“It's fine,” she said, as distinctly as she could with Ty Lee hanging from her neck. “It's fine.”

* * *

She sat in the gloom of the ringmaster's quarters- they had been easy enough to find, rented rooms at an inn, rather than a tent- and wondered what exactly she should do with her feet.

Eventually, she decided to prop them up on the desk. That would do.

The plan was simple. Sokka would be introduced by Ty Lee to one of the ...foremen or senior staff or sergeants or whatever they were called; Azula neither knew nor cared, as a travelling colony boy, looking to make his fortune with nothing but an array of boomerang tricks. Ty Lee seemed certain that, if he impressed, he wouldn't have a problem being hired as a sideshow performer.

That was fine, as far as it went, but Azula was fairly sure she wasn't cut out for capering around for the amusement of a paying audience. She had other things in mind.

Presently, the door opened, and the ringmaster- a small, slight man, with an over-large head and a worried moustache- swept into the room.

“Your security is dreadful,” Azula said, before he realised she was here, and was gratified to see him leap nearly out of his skin.

“Ah! How did you- who are-”

Azula leaned back in the seat, idly tenting her fingertips. “If I'd wanted to, I could have quite easily killed you, stolen your share of the profits, which you keep under the loose floorboard the carpet doesn't do a very good job of hiding, and be three miles away before anyone thinks to look for you.”

The colour drained from his face. Azula had maybe three seconds.

“What you need is better security.”

Seven seconds, now, as he silently scrambled for a grip on the situation.

This small man had all the power. All it would take to undo her was him saying _no_. The trick was to make him forget this, to keep him just off-balance enough that he didn't stop to think about what she was saying, to apply just the right amount of pressure. Sooner rather than later, he'd decide that the only possible thing to do was exactly what she said.

“I am here to make you an offer,” she said, withdrawing her legs in one smooth motion, and sitting forward, the very picture of an earnest negotiator. “I have found myself in need of transport to the capital. In return for letting me travel with you, I can provide you with the added peace of mind knowing that I will _personally_ take an interest in the security of your operation.”

The ringmaster blinked, now more baffled than frightened. “Well, I suppose we could always use more guards, but I hardly think I can afford-”

Suggesting she didn't need the money would have been a fatal mistake. Too suspicious, too much an invitation to curiosity.

“You know, of course, that things in the Fire Nation aren't quite as they used to be. Granted, you're not in the colonies now, but you hear all sorts of stories these days,” she said, airily, as though discussing something that couldn't possibly affect her in any way but would almost certainly leave him destitute or extremely murdered. “Theft, arson, banditry, it hardly bears thinking about.”

“Err...” the ringmaster interjected, eloquently.

“Ah, of course, you can't simply hire just anyone; you will need a demonstration,” she agreed.

“I will?”

“How about,” she said, springing to her feet and steering him towards the door, “a practical exercise?”

* * *

Azula swept into the sunlight, ringmaster trailing in her wake, deliberately not looking in the place she had left Sokka and Ty Lee, and scanned the mass of humanity before her.

A few guards patrolled, or sat, or were engrossed in taking apart a tent. She motioned towards four of the more intimidating specimens.  
  
"Him, her, her, and her." The ringmaster, in something of a daze, signalled them over, and briefly explained the situation. The four guards nodded, somewhere between amiable and confused, and more than one glanced slightly askance at Azula.

This might be even simpler than she thought.

A space was cleared, and a crowd began to gather, as the combatants took their positions. Azula carefully failed to notice Ty Lee dragging Sokka over to the edge of the ring, and instead checked her nails.

Eventually, she glanced up, and, seeing that the four were as ready as they were going to get, gave a short nod.

They spread out, thoughtfully, moving to encircle her, as she drew into a stance. They were used to working together. In a way, that made it better.

It wasn't enough to win. She had to be _spectacular_.

One of the guards- the man, taller than her but not by much, broad shoulders, heavyset, nose broken a few times, foot in a metal brace, invalided out of the front lines most likely, unquestionably a firebender, still a threat but less stable than he'd like to think- stepped forward cautiously, approaching from the front, muscles tensing as he moved to spring, but he wasn't sure if she was _serious_ , didn't know if he'd hurt her if he threw a punch, didn't want to be the one to make the first move.

So she obliged, and just as he broke to swing she stepped forward and _up,_ bringing the heel of her foot into direct contact with his jaw, pushing forward and driving him to the ground, pinning him neatly with her heel digging into his neck.

There was a moment of breathless hush, punctuated by his frantic gurgling, and Azula took the moment to glance up at the crowd and _smile_ , before the other three pounced.

* * *

Azula locked eyes with the ringmaster, noting with some satisfaction that he suddenly looked extremely nervous, and smirked.  Behind him, inconspicuously lurking in the crowd that had gathered to watch the show, Sokka had an odd look on his face, like he was desperately in need of a long drink of water.

Really, it hadn't been anything special- she hadn't even needed to use fire- but it did feel good to hit something again.

"So," she announced, lightly uncurling her fist in such a way to remind the ringmaster that his arms remained unbroken entirely at her pleasure, "do we have a deal?"

* * *

She didn't observe Sokka's audition- she was trapped in an interminable tour of dismal sleeping areas, insanitary cooking conditions, and utterly tedious duties which amounted to little more than 'walk around and make sure nobody causes trouble'-  and besides, it would have been too dangerous, too suspicious for too little benefit.

He did well, Ty Lee told her later, but Azula had never doubted _that_.

* * *

It wasn't until that night, when the entire circus had been packed into wagons, and left the sea behind, that Azula could no longer put off the conversation with Ty Lee. Sokka was nowhere to be found, off being inducted into the troupe somewhere Azula couldn't help him, and she didn't know whether to be worried or grateful. Worried that he might say something wrong, and be in danger, or grateful, that at least there wasn't anyone else around to hear this.

Ty Lee was perched on one of the wagons, halfway between the campfires and the animal cages, staring up at the stars, when Azula paced out of the shadows. She looked down at her approach, and smiled, but otherwise made no motion.

Azula coughed, awkwardly. “You wanted to know how I got here,” she said too quickly, because if she waited too long she'd never have said it.

At that, Ty Lee cocked her head, and shifted, moving to face Azula. Hands twisted in her lap as she waited, patiently.

Azula breathed, a long, shuddering breath that threatened to rattle her heart out of her chest. And she told her.

* * *

She was sitting just over the edge of the circle of firelight when Sokka stumbled towards her, clutching a bowl of thin soup in each hand. He thrust one towards her, and she took it, dully, with no real interest in it.

He blinked. “You okay?”

She shrugged. “I talked with Ty Lee.”

“Oh? …. _Oh._ Ooooh.” He flopped down next to her, and started to eat.

She scowled. “You shouldn't be here. It's too dangerous.”

He grinned, too easy, too wide, and she realised with a start that he'd been drinking. “What, a wandering colony guy can't want to talk to the fascinating stranger?”

She shook her head sharply. She _remembered_ the Fire Nation. “No. He can't. We cannot draw too much attention. If you need to talk, leave a message with Ty Lee.” It was easy to be practical, in the eddies that talking to Ty Lee had left. She was feeling washed out, and blank.

He blinked, and for a second she might have imagined he looked hurt, but as soon as she looked for it it was gone, and he grinned, easy and languid, and tapped his nose conspiratorially.

“Okay, deep cover, enemy territory, I don't know you you don't know me, I can do that.” He pushed up with his free hand, and staggered to his feet. “I'll be waiting for the word.”

He sauntered back towards the fire, but halfway there he seemed to remember something, and stopped.

“I just wanted to say... I'm glad we found your friend. She seems nice.”

Azula looked at the ground, absurdly guilty.

“She is.”

“Okay now say something really horrible, people are starting to stare and I need to look like you just told me to go jump in my own ice hole.”

* * *

Ty Lee had never been hard to find, as long as one understood how she thought. Azula hauled herself up onto the roof of the coaching inn the ringmaster had reserved for his own personal use, and there, as expected, was Ty Lee, hunched up, curled into herself, eyes shining in the moonlight.

She was crying. She was crying, Azula realised, as she turned to face her, as she hid her face in her hands, as Azula sat down on the roof a little way away from her because she couldn't think of anything more intelligent to do.

“Ty Lee.”

“Oh, hi!” she sniffed, trying desperately to pretend everything was alright.

“It's alright,” she said, because that was what she was pretty sure you were supposed to say in these situations.

“It's not!” Ty Lee hissed, breath hitching in her throat, knees folding up to her chin. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

Azula's throat hitched. “You had nothing to do with-”

Ty Lee shook her head wildly, eyes screwing shut. “I ran away. You got hurt and I wasn't there. _Zuko_ -” she couldn't finish the sentence, and for that, at least, Azula was grateful. “-I wasn't there,” she repeated, like a supplication.

Azula clapped her hand firmly on Ty Lee's shoulder, shaking her out of wherever her thoughts were going.

“Don't worry,” she said, jaw set. “He'll pay. Iroh will _pay_ for what he's done.”

Ty Lee blinked, jolted from her reverie. “Yeah.”

Azula nodded. “I guarantee it.”


End file.
